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‘TELL US A STORY, AUNT JANE, WILL YOU?’ 
[Page 80] 





STORIES FOR THE 
TWILIGHT 

FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


By 

EVA E. JACKSON 


Published by W. B. Rose 
1132 Washington Bonl., Chicago, Illinois 
1912 




Copyright, 1912 

BY EVA E. JACKSON 



€C1.A314443 
ta f 


Her&s to you, my children, 

To you, dear hearts so true! 
I give to you these stories 
To tell my love for you. 





CONTENTS 


Healing the Wounded 13 

A Broken Law 21 

Grandfather’s Comparison 31 

Marjorie’s Birthday Gift 35 

A Heart of Love ' 39 

The Pink Rose 51 

Loving His Enemy 57 

Counting His Blessings G5 

Caught in Time 71 

How Aunt Jane Was Cured 79 

The Object Lesson 01 

The Kite 99 

The Light of His Love 105 

The Broken Vase 115 

A Question Settled 119 

Loving as He Loved 127 

The Robin’s Text 129 

Reaping His Christmas Sowing 137 

Hearts Made Glad 147 





LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“Tell Us a Stoey, Aunt Jane, Will You?” — F rontis- 


piece 

“My Own Darling Susie” 16 

“As We Went Down the Road Together” 25 

“She’ll Never Guess What I’ve Got in Here, Will 

She?” 34 

“They Were on Their Way Home” 45 

“Now, I’m Sorry for Dick” 62 

“I’ll Catch Him” 74 

“Oh, Dear! I’m Heartily Sick of This Whole 

Thing” 78 

“I Stole Quietly Down the Stairs” 82 

“I Was Sitting by My Grandfather” Ill 

“She Was About All That I Could Help to Carry”. . 123 

“Never Mind, Willie, I’ll Stand in Your Place” 126 

“Feeding Her Little Ones” 132 

“Aren’t They Nice, Jimmy?” 136 



HEALING THE WOUNDED 


0 H, Oh ! You have broken my dear little 
Susie!” cried Gretchen Wilder, lifting her 
doll from a queer little heap on the floor and 
finding its head broken in two. 

“I didn’t break her,” returned Charlotte. 

^Wes, you did!” insisted Gretchen. ‘Wou must 
have done it! No one else was here.” 

didn’t, though,” said Charlotte, soberly, and 
feeling very much grieved, she left the room and 
went slowly io her own home. 

When she had gone, Gretchen, carrying the pieces 
of poor Susie, went in search of her mother and, 
after finding her, told her sad story. Then in an- 
swer to, ‘‘What makes you thirk that Charlotte did 
it?” she explained that she and her little neighbor, 
Charlotte Brand, had been playing together, and 
that for some reason she had left the room and had 
gone back to find her favorite doll broken, adding, 


[ 13 ] 


14 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


^^Charlotte must have done it, for no one else was 
there.” 

A few days later, when Mrs. Wilder was away, 
little Gretchen became very lonely, and Polly, her 
sister, planning to amuse her, suggested: 

^^Let^s play something, Gretchen.” 

^^All right,” agreed the little girl, her face bright- 
ening, ^‘What shall we play?” 

After thinking for a moment, know,” said Polly, 
glancing at the little cradle, in which the broken 
doll still lay. ^ We’ll play that Susie’s sick and 
that she’s at the hospital. I will be the nurse, and 
you will be her mother and come to see her.” 

‘^That’ll be fun,” said Gretchen and, in a few mo- 
ments, both girls had entered heartily into the play. 

Two or three times Gretchen had been to see her 
dear, sick Susie, and had told to the nurse just how 
the accident had occurred and, more in earnest than 
in play, had poured out her heart’s grief, when a 
new idea came to Polly: 

‘T know what I’ll do,” thought she. 'T saw Kate 
using something in the kitchen the other day that I 
am almost sure would cure this doll. I’ll ask her.” 


HEALING THE WOUNDED 


15 


So the very minute that Gretchen had gone to 
what she called her home — though it was only into 
the next room — Polly hastened to the kitchen. When 
she had made her wants known, “Why, yes,’’ said 
Kate, “that will fix the doll. Sure, it will ! That’s 
what it’s for — to mend all such things with.” 

Then, carrying a small jar, she accompanied Polly 
to the “hospital.” While their deft fingers were ac- 
complishing the work, there was a frequent and in- 
sistent little rapping at the door, which each time 
was answered with: “You can’t come yet.” 

But, after a while, when Kate with the “medi- 
cine” had disappeared, and Susie lay all snug in her 
little bed, “Now we’re ready!” shouted Polly, and 
immediately in came Gretchen, in answer to whose 
inquiry, Polly, speaking softly, replied : “She’s 
sleeping now and must not be disturbed.” 

When they had talked about the sick dolly, 
Gretchen left the room, with Polly saying: “You 
must come again to-morrow; I think she will be 
better then.” 

So, in a short time, the young mother went again 
to the supposed hospital, saying anxiously : “I could 



“my own DAELING SUSIE” 


HEALING THE WOUNDED 


17 


not wait any longer, nurse ; I felt that I must know 
about my sick baby.” 

she^s better! much better; though we must 
handle her very carefully,” said Polly, taking the 
doll from the crib, at which ^‘Oh, Polly!” exclaimed 
Gretchen, ‘Hs it Susie? Have I really got her back?” 
looking her over and wondering how it could be. 
Then: ^‘My own darling Susie,” she murmured, as 
she pressed her to her lips and kissed her. 

That evening, when Mrs. Wilder had returned and 
the family were seated together, Gretchen with great 
delight told of her pleasant surprise and how it had 
happened, for Polly had explained it all, when Ar- 
thur, her brother, not knowing all that had taken 
place, asked : ‘^How was it that Susie was broken ?” 
upon which Gretchen repeated the story told to her 
mother a few days before. 

^^And are you very, very sure about it? Do you 
know that Charlotte did it?” he asked. 

And when she answered, ^Wes,” he said, don^t 
think she did, for I sat right opposite the door and 
happened to see the doll when she slipped from the 
lounge. You left her a little too near the edge, I 


18 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


think. She was right here, wasn’t she?” putting his 
foot on the place where Susie was found. And, 
after further discussion, they all felt sure that 
Arthur was in the right of it. 

Next morning, ^What’s become of Charlotte?” in- 
quired Mrs. Wilder. ‘‘I haven’t seen her for several 
days.” And, after thinking, Gretchen remembered 
that she too had not seen her little playmate since 
the day of the accident. 

^‘I’ll tell you,” said her mother, “I am afraid that 
Susie was not the one who was most hurt, and if I 
were you, I would go to Charlotte and tell her that 
I was sorry for ever thinking that she broke the 
doll, and especially when she had said that she 
didn’t do it.” 

''What shall I say to her, mother?” asked the lit- 
tle girl, with a puzzled look. 

"Why, just tell her that you’re sorry, and that 
Susie is all right now, and that she must come over 
and play with her.” 

When, in a little while, Mrs. Wilder saw Gretchen 
and Charlotte walking hand in hand toward the 


HEALING THE WOUNDED 


19 


house, she knew that everything had been made 
right, and said: 

glad that she did it, for when little children 
learn to say, am sorry,’ they have learned that 
which is helpful to them all their lives.” 












A BEOKEN LAW 


a TINT JANE and Uncle Ned lived in a little 
town in the northern part of Ohio, and their 
last name was Maxwell. 

Almost directly across the street lived Mr. 
and Mrs. Holcombe and their five children: Mary, 
Josephine, Helen, Margaret and John. Aunt Jane 
loved every one of them ; and there was not one of 
them whom she had not tended more or less, though 
we may as well tell you now that she was aunt to 
them only in name, and not a ^‘really, truly one,'^ 
using an expression of little Margaret’s. 

It was no wonder that they loved her, for nothing 
ever went wrong at the Holcombe house, from a 
burned finger to a case of scarlet fever, that she 
was not called upon. Never was the day too stormy, 
or the night too dark, for her to go; and never did 
she fail in giving the thing needed, whether it was 
medicine or sympathy. 


[ 21 ] 


22 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


You might have called her handsome, — we do not 
know; but had you thought otherwise, we would 
have advised you not to express your opinion in the 
presence of the little Holcombes — that is, if you 
cared at all to hold their good graces. 

Many an hour did those four little girls — John 
was just a wee baby — spend with Aunt Jane in her 
little, old-fashioned sitting-room, the time often made 
pleasant by the dear old lady’s stories, a few of 
which we will give to the readers of this little book. 

One evening when they were there, Aunt Jane, 
having guessed why they had come, commenced with, 
remember that ” 

Every eye was turned quickly toward her, for they 
knew that something always followed when Aunt 
Jane said, remember,” and what followed that 
time was this : 

'When I was a little girl, about eight years old, 
I did what I’m afraid you will think was one of the 
worst things that a girl ever did— and I’m not sure 
but it was. Anyway, it made more disturbance than 
any other thing I ever did. 

"You see, Blanche Nichols lived just a little way 


A BROKEN LAW 


23 


from US. We were in the same class at school and 
used to study together quite a little, or try to, though 
I don’t know just how much real studying we 
did. 

“One evening while we were seated at the table, 
working over our next day’s lesson, my father came 
in and, taking the evening paper, read aloud, as 
near as I can remember, something like this : ^Kev. 
D. M. Eichards and family will leave to-morrow 
morning for Boston, where they will make their fu- 
ture home.’ 

“He read to himself after that and didn’t take 
much notice of what we were saying. But, dear me ! 
I wished afterward that he had, and had put a stop 
to it, for what we planned in the next few minutes 
made me more trouble than I can tell. 

“I don’t think we studied much, for I know that 
we did some quiet talking, and the result was that — 
I guess you will laugh when I tell you — though 
neither Blanche nor I knew the Eichards in the 
least, we decided that on our way to school next 
day we would stop at the depot and see them off. 
We knew about what time the train went. 


24 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


‘^Next morning she called as usual for me to go to 
school. I can see ourselves now as we went down 
the road together. Blanche wore pink, and I wore 
a blue dress with white dots in it, and a white 
apron with straps over the shoulders. I remember 
that I always felt considerably dressed up in that 
apron. My sunbonnet was blue.” 

Aunt Jane saw the smiles gathering on the girls^ 
faces. 

^^Oh, I know,” said she, ‘^that you girls wouldn’t 
like to wear sunbonnets to school, but it was all 
right when I was a girl. 

“I must tell you right here, children, that it was 
a very strict law at our house that there should be 
no loitering on our way to or from school, and if 
ever the breaking of a law got one into trouble, it 
certainly did me that time, for instead of going to 
school as we were supposed to do, we went around 
to see those people off, and I don’t know just exact- 
ly how it did happen, but when that train pulled 
out, Blanche and I were on it.” 

‘‘Oh! oh!” shouted the girls. 

“Yes,” continued Aunt Jane, “and whatever 



26 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


possessed us to do such a thing, I can’t imagine, for 
we ought to have been at school that minute. 

‘^You see, we were going to get off at the junction 
stop. Just going for a little ride! But what was 
very much to our surprise, that train kept going and 
going, and pretty soon the conductor came through ; 
and, oh, dear! your Aunt Jane had always before 
thought that conductors with their pretty brass but- 
tons looked so nice, but somehow she lost all of her 
admiration for them that day. I remember that we 
sat in the corner right by the door, and I spied him 
the very first thing. 

^^Blanche kept glancing through the window and 
saying every minute or two, We’re ’most there now.’ 
It wasn’t long, though, till she noticed the man with 
the brass buttons, and I thought that she appeared 
somewhat annoyed. 

'‘Oh, dear! I can see that man now as he looked 
over his spectacles at us and held out his hand, say- 
ing in a gruff voice: ‘Tickets!’ 

“I was scared, but Blanche was more courageous 
and said, with all dignity, ‘Why, we’re going to get 
off at the junction. We just got on for a little ride.’ 


A BROKEN LAW 


27 


^‘While she was saying this I felt a little better, 
but I shall never forget how my heart sank when 
the conductor said in that same heavy voice, ‘Haven’t 
you got your tickets ? We don’t stop at the junction ! 
We’re late. Anyway, we passed it long ago !’ 

“Blanche was frightened, and so was I. I re- 
member, though, how she tried to comfort me when 
I couldn’t help crying. And, girls, I cried till I at- 
tracted the attention of nearly everybody in the 
car! 

“The conductor didn’t say very much more just 
then, but when he left us I saw a queer little twinkle 
in his eye, and I thought I heard him say, ‘Well, I’ll 
see.’ 

“After a while he came back and brought Mr. 
Richards with him — the man whom we went to see 
off. As they came near, I heard Mr. Richards say, 
‘No, I don’t know them.’ Then turning to us, he 
asked : ‘What are your names, little girls ?’ 

“We told him. I shall never forget what a dread- 
ful time I had telling mine, for it seemed as if I 
would choke to death with sobs. They inquired if 
we had any money, and, strange to say, there was to 


*28 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


have been a collection taken at school that day, so 
we both had our purses. I think Blanche had about 
thirty cents in hers. I don’t know just how much I 
did have; but I remember that the conductor took 
mine out of my lap and pinched it a little and tossed 
it back. I guess he thought that there wasn’t much 
in it. 

^When they had talked for what seemed to me a 
long time, I saw Mr. Richards smile as he took some 
money from his pocket and gave it to the conductor ; 
and before they went away we were told that we 
were to leave the train at the next station. We were 
also informed that we would not be able to get home 
till evening, and that we must be at the depot at six 
o’clock sharp. By taking that train we would have 
the same conductor. 

^‘You understand, girls, that Mr. Richards had 
been kind and had paid our fares both ways. They 
comforted us as best they could, and assured us that 
we’d get home all right ; but if ever there was a long 
day, that one was ! 

remember that at twelve o’clock Blanche said 
to me, ^Come on, Jane, let’s go up-town and see 


A BROKEN LAW 


29 


what it’s like. Maybe we can find something 
to eat.’ 

^ ‘We had a little money, you know ; but I declared 
that I wasn’t hungry. ‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘we might 
miss that six o’clock train.’ 

“After she had coaxed awhile, we went across the 
street and bought some buns and bananas, but I in- 
sisted on staying close to the depot. 

“When leaving the store, we discovered a sign 
next door which read: ‘Come in and have your pic- 
ture. Ten cents apiece.’ And what do you think? 
We went in and had our pictures taken! Here’s 
mine now,” she said, turning quickly the leaves of 
her Bible, which she had taken from the table. “I 
always keep it over here in Proverbs. It doesn’t 
look much like me, but here I am with my sunbonnet 
hanging on my neck. I often wore it that way.” 

“What’s that in your hand. Aunt Jane?” asked 
Helen. 

“Oh, that’s my lunch in a little paper bag. I’d just 
bought it, you know. 

“When we reached home that night,” she con- 
tinued, “we found that nearly everybody had been 


30 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


hunting for ujs, and mj mother was nearly 
crazed. 

didn’t feel much like talking then, but next 
morning a very serious conversation took place, and 
I shall never forget that I was present. After that 
I was sent to my room to remain until I thought 
that I could remember to go directly to and from 
school.” 

^‘But why do you keep the picture in Proverbs, 
auntie?” asked Josephine. 

^‘Well, I’ll tell you, dear,” she answered. ^‘Over 
here in Proverbs it says, 'He that keepeth the law, 
happy is he,’ and somehow I always associated the 
two.” 

Little Margaret wondered just what she meant, 
while the others cried, "Oh, I see!” 


GEANDFATHEK^S COMPAEISON 


0 NE evening little Dorothy Terry, watching her 
grandfather as he wound his old-fashioned 
clock, said, mischievously, ‘^Our clock^s pret- 
tier, than yours, grandpa. IPs face is lots prettier.’’ 

^‘Maybe ’tis,” said the dear old man; ^^but I don’t 
think that it’s any better.” 

Then, smiling, he lifted the child and seated her 
on the sofa, and taking a place beside her, said : ^‘Do 
you know, my dear, that clocks are much like little 
girls, in a way? Some of them have very pretty 
faces, but are not much good, for one never knows 
what to expect of them; and some have what you 
might call plain faces, yet you can count on them 
every time. 

^^My old clock isn’t very handsome, is it?” he 
asked, looking at the little girl as if thinking of more 
than he was saying. “But, you know, I can depend 
upon it every time. It makes no difference what the 


[ 31 ] 


32 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 



weather is — rain or shine — it 
never fails me — never! 

“You know, Dorothy, it 
isn’t always a pretty face 
that counts. I told you that 
clocks are like little girls, in 
a way, and so they are. 

“We once had a clock that 
at times would run beautifully, 
and when it did, J remember 
that it looked very nice to me; 
but let a day come that was a lit- 
tle too cold, or a little too damp, 
and it seemed that no one could 
do anything with it. I remem- 
ber, too, that when it had a spell 
of that sort, I couldn’t see 
any beauty in it. Really, it 
was no good, for you couldn’t 
depend upon it. 

j Now, I know a very nice little 
I girl,” he smiled, giving a knowing 
wink at grandma, “and sometimes 


GRANDFATHER’S COMPARISON 


33 


she is very, very good. This morning she came down- 
stairs looking as sweet as a little girl could look; 
but when she found that it was raining and she 
could not go out, I wish that you might have seen 
her. Why, it wasn^t any time till her smiles were 
all gone! And she looked so different that I doubt 
if you would have known her!’’ 

Dorothy looked confused as her grandfather con- 
tinued: “I tried to talk with her, and all that she 
would say was, ^Yes,’ ‘No.’ Her grandmother asked 
her to dust the parlor and she did it ; but you would 
have known by the way she worked that she didn’t 
want to. You couldn’t depend upon her, you see.” 

The tiny girl slipped from the sofa and, taking a 
picture book, handed it to him, sighing as she said : 
“Let’s look at the pictures, grandpa.” 

In less than a week another rainy morning came; 
and when they had finished breakfast and were 
about to leave the dining-room, Dorothy put her 
chubby little arms around the old man’s neck and, 
drawing his head a little closer to her, said rather 
quietly, “I’m not going to be like a ‘no good clock’ 
to-day, grandpa.” 



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“she’ll never guess what I’VE GOT IN 

HERE, WILL SHE?'’ 





MAKJOEIE’S BIRTHDAY GIFT 


m HIS must be what grandfather calls a 
^Marchy’ day,” said Annie, as she and her sis- 
ter, Ruth, walked down the country road in 
a storm of sleet. 

‘‘Won’t Marjorie be pleased? She’ll never guess 
what I’ve got in here, will she ?” she continued, glanc* 
ing quickly at the little leather case which hung 
by her side. 

“I don’t think she will,” answered Ruth. “I’m 
sure I’d never imagine from the looks of it.” 

“I’m glad Mary loaned me this, for it’s nicer than 
carrying a basket. She’ll think I’ve brought her a 
kodak, won’t she. Don’t you tell her, Ruth.” 

“No, but you mustn’t hold it too tightly, and don’t 
let the cover shut clear down. It wouldn’t be safe, 
you know.” 

“I won’t,” came the assurance, and they went on, 
as happy as ever girls could be in the act of giving 


[ 35 ] 


36 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


another an unexpected joy, unmindful of the storm 
and the disagreeable walking. 

hated to let him go. I’d rather she’d had the 
spotted one, but sister Mary said it wasn’t nice al- 
ways to give the one you didn’t want. The one 
Marjorie had looked like this one, didn’t it?” 

^‘Yes,” said Ruth, holding the umbrella down a 
little closer. “And I am sure that if I were a little 
lame girl like Marjorie Dake, and it was my birth- 
day, I’d be glad to have something that some one else 
liked, and not always have just the left-overs.” 

Ruth knew what a struggle her sister had had, and 
she knew, too, how her mother had thought that it 
would be good for her little girl to give what in this 
case was called, “the pretty one.” Truly, there had 
been quite a conflict in Annie’s mind, the result be- 
ing that all tucked away in her sister’s kodak case, 
with a light blue ribbon around its neck, was a little 
white kitten. 

It was a queer way to carry it, but, as Annie 
said, they didn’t want Marjorie to mistrust till the 
last thing. Then, too, Ruth thought that the storm 


MARJORIE’S BIRTHDAY 


37 


was dreadful and ‘‘Fluffy” would be nice and warm 
in there. 

“Keep still; they’ll hear you,” cautioned Annie, 
looking down at the leather bag from which came 
now and then a lonely little cry. Then to Kuth : “I 
don’t dare touch him; he might jump out, you 
know.” 

By this time Mrs. Dake had opened the door and, 
going in, they found Marjorie sitting in her chair, 
from which she seldom stirred, except with the help 
of her crutches, which now lay by her side. 

“I’ve brought you a birthday present,” said Annie, 
poking the little pink nose back into the bag. Then, 
slipping the strap quickly from her shoulder, she 
placed the case in the little girl’s lap. 

Marjorie was surprised. And Fluff played his 
part well, for he never made another sound till the 
bag was opened; then, looking at his new mistress, 
as if to introduce himself, he gave a friendly mew. 

“Oh, you cunning little kitten!” exclaimed Mar- 
jorie. “You’re just what I’ve been wishing for! 
Isn’t he a beauty?” and she held him up in both 
hands before her face. 


38 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


^‘That blue ribbon^s cute on him,” she said. ^H’ve 
wanted a white kitten ever since my Fluffy was 
killed. It is lovely of you, Annie. Do you care if 
I call him Fluffy?” 

^^That’s his name,” said both visitors in one voice. 

Then Marjorie told them how sometimes the days 
seemed very long to her, because she could not walk 
or run, like other children. ‘‘But,” she said, “Fluf- 
fy will be company for me now.” 

That night when Euth and Annie were snug in 
bed, Annie nestled close to Euth, and said, “Say, 
Euth, isn^t it fun to give what you like yourself? 
I’m glad I didn’t keep the white one. She liked the 
white one, too.” 



A HEAET OF LOVE 


T WAS the last Sunday before the summer 
vacation. Ruth Kendall passed from the Sun- 
day-school room down the old church steps 
and went hurriedly to the street. She had not 
gone more than a couple of blocks, however, till 
she slackened her pace and, with eyes fixed on the 
ground, walked very slowly, as if there were some- 
thing of importance on her mind. And there was! 

While she is thus strolling, let us take a little look 
into her life. 

Ruth was not a bad girl, neither may we say that 
she was altogether good. In fact. Aunt Lou had al- 
ways said that John’s folks would spoil her, and it 
might be that they had; but whether John’s folks,” 
or some other folks, had spoiled her, or whether it 
had been done in some other mysterious way, or 
whether it had ever been done at all, no one ever 
knew. However that may have been, it was very 



STO'RIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


iO 


evident that in some way she had become a very 
selfish girl. 

It was just at the close of her second year at board- 
ing-school; and the very fact that she was in school 
necessitated a great many sacrifices being made by 
the other members of the family, of which she never 
seemed the least bit conscious. 

But that morning, while passing slowly down the 
street, she was thinking seriously, something like 
this: wonder why Miss Ainslee talked so much 

about selfishness this morning. It seemed to me that 
there were a dozen other points in the lesson which 
she never touched. Why, I thought she never was 
going to stop on that one! It made me feel as if 
she must have seen me pout, when the letter came 
saying that I must be satisfied to stay at home this 
summer. She said something, too, about its making 
people happy to do for another’s sake. I wonder ‘if 
it does.” 

Right here she knitted her brow for an instant; 
then, raising her head quickly, she glanced about 
as if wondering if there were any one near, and 


A HEART OF LOVE 


41 


said aloud, “I am going to try it! We’ll see what 
there is in it. And this very summer, too!” 

Next day. Sue Wright and Ruth were walking 
through the campus together, when Sue, after telling 
of the many pleasures which she expected to enjoy 
during the vacation, asked enthusiastically: ^What 
are you going to do, Ruth?” 

^Well, I’ll tell you! I had several little things 
planned, but I’ve changed my mind, Sue, and I’m 
going to stay at home and have one of the best times 
that a girl ever had — that is, if what Miss Ainslee 
said is true.” 

^What!” exclaimed Sue, ‘‘stay at home and have 
a good time?” 

“Yes; stay at home and have a good time.” 

Sue’s big blue eyes grew bigger as Ruth continued, 
“It’s something that I haven’t done since I can re- 
member ; and while there isn’t a girl here who would 
like a pleasure trip, or something of the sort, any 
more than I, I’ve been thinking that maybe mother 
would like a vacation as well. You see, I’ve been 
looking the matter well over since yesterday, and it 
occurs to me that my mother hasn’t had a rest, or 


42 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


anything like a rest, for a long, long time, and I’m 
going to see that she has one this summer, and ” 

^^But,” interrupted Sue, ^^that doesn’t hinder your 
having one!” 

^^Yes, it does,” declared Kuth. ^^You don’t know 
it, but I know that my father can’t afford a vacation 
for two of us; and, besides, my mother would never 
trust my little brothers with a maid. So I am going 
to stay at home and mother is going. Maybe they’ll 
think that even one vacation can’t be afforded, but 
I shall insist, and if father hasn’t the money, I know 
what I’ll do, for I planned it all after I went to bed 
last night. I’ll pick berries for the man who lives 
next door and I’ll help furnish the money. I’ll get 
tanned and brown, but who cares! Won’t mother 
enjoy it? And she shall go, dear heart, no matter 
what it costs!” 

It was the look of surprise on her friend’s face 
that caused her to add, “Oh, you think that I’m go- 
ing crazy, I guess, and until yesterday I never would 
have thought myself that I would talk or feel as I 
do now ; but you heard. Sue, what Miss Ainslee said 
about selfishness and sacrificing, and I’ve come to the 


A HEART OF LOVE 


43 


conclusion that it^s time that I stopped thinking 
so much of my own comfort and gave some one else 
a good time.” 

After a little pause, Euth continued : “I told you 
about sister Nell, and how she has never been able 
to walk since that dreadful accident. It had never 
come to me so fully as it did last night, but I can 
see now how long the days must seem to her, with 
nothing to do but to sit in that old, big chair and 
read or do a little light work. Now, while I cannot 
make her any better really, for the doctor says that 
she can never walk again, I am going to see that she 
has something interesting to read ; and another thing, 
I am going to do with a less expensive hat, and I 
think that in that way Nell can have a pretty new 
shawl and some nice slippers. I can just see her 
now, looking so nice ! I saw a shawl the other day 
that I think she would like.” 

All this time Sue had had but little chance to say 
anything; and it was just as well, for, really, there 
was nothing to say. She knew Kuth Kendall well 
enough to know that without doubt her plans would 
be carried out. 


44 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


tell you about it next year/’ concluded Ruth, 
as they were about to enter the recitation room. 

“Good!” was the answer, and the girls separated. 

Soon the day came for the home-going, and there 
wasn’t a happier girl among them all than Ruth 
Kendall. It seemed to her that the train could not 
run fast enough, so eager was she to see those for 
whom she had planned so much; and when, upon 
meeting her father, she threw her arms around his 
neck, kissing him, the man couldn’t help saying to 
himself, “Whatever has come over the girl?” 

When the trunk had been placed in the back of 
the wagon and they were on their way home, Ruth, 
thinking it a good time to talk the matter over, un- 
folded her plans ; and the result was that before they 
reached home Mr. Kendall had made two promises. 
One was that Mrs. Kendall should never think that 
Ruth was making any sacrifice, and the other that 
he would allow Ruth to help in the expense. 

The moment they turned to drive up the lane, out 
from the house bounded two little boys, Karl and 
Fred, fairly dancing with glee, to meet them. 

“I’ll not disappoint them,” determined Ruth. “I’ll 



“they were on their way home” 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


16 


be worthy of this greeting.” And surely you would 
have thought her so, had you seen her as she walked 
toward the house, with a hoy on either side, and an 
arm around each of them, while their little arms 
encircled her waist though Fred’s hardly reached 
that high. 

Just exactly what was said never was told, only 
that it was something about some kittens and some 
rabbits. Whatever it was, Ruth kept thinking, 
“How could I have wished that I was not coming 
home?” 

When she greeted her mother and sister Nell she 
did it so heartily that they never once thought that 
she had ever felt any other way than glad. Then, 
when in answer to her question, “Where’s Robert?” 
Mrs. Kendall pointed toward the bedroom, she tip- 
toed in, and smiling at the little one as he lay fast 
asleep, stooped and, laying her head carefully be- 
side his for a moment, whispered softly, “Cunning !” 

At breakfast next morning Ruth ventured to ask : 

“How many vacations have you had this year, 
mother?” 

Mrs. Kendall smiled as she answered: “Oh, I’m 


A HEART OF LOVE 


47 


afraid not very many, though Vve had a good 
time.” 

^Well, listen !” began Ruth. ^Tirst of all, I want 
to announce that Mrs. Kendall, of Riverside, will 
leave on Thursday of next week for a visit with her 
sister in Springfield, Massachusetts.” 

They laughed at her way of presenting the mat- 
ter, while Mrs. Kendall held up her hands in aston- 
ishment, saying, ^Why, Ruth, what has put that 
into your head? Whoever heard of such a thing? 
Who’s going to keep house and do all this work, 
if I go away?” 

^Well, as to ^whoever heard of such a thing,’ I 
couldn’t tell you, for that would go too far back for 
my memory; but as to who can keep house and do 
the work, I can, with Karl’s and Fred’s help,” and 
Ruth looked mischievously at the boys, for she 
guessed that Fred was too small to count on. 

^Wes, but who’s going to take care of Robert?” 
was the next question. 

am,” declared Ruth. ‘‘We can keep house, 
can’t we. Bob?” taking the little fellow and tossing 
him into the air. 


48 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


In spite of Mrs. KendalPs many excuses, Ruth 
and her father succeeded in influencing her to make 
the visit which they had planned, and upon her re- 
turn, finding everything and everybody well cared 
for, she happily remarked that she possessed a new 
lease of life. 

Something nice had taken place, too, while she 
was away, which caused her to exclaim : “Why, Nell 
Kendall! Where did you get that new shawl?’’ 
Just then Nell’s foot crept from beneath her skirt, 
and Mrs. Kendall added, “And slippers? Why, isn’t 
that lovely!” 

Next morning, as Ruth rolled up her sleeves, pre- 
paratory to the washing of the dishes, it brought 
from her mother: “Why, Ruth! How dreadfully 
brown your arms are! How did that happen?” 

The dear girl didn’t dare look up while answer- 
ing, “Oh, it’s summer time, you know.” 

Just a day or two before Ruth went back to 
school, she with her mother and Nell were seated 
in the parlor when, in the course of their conversa- 
tion, Ruth said, “I don’t know, only there was Miss 
Ainslee’s lesson; then, too, I was sorry, and some- 


A HEART OF LOVE 


49 


how the selfishness left my heart and it was filled 
with love. Miss Ainslee said something about sac- 
rificing for love, but I think that where there is love 
there is little or no sacrifice.” 

Kuth returned to school a happy girl, and from 
that summer there dated one or two little secrets 
which Mrs. Kendall never suspected. 



1 


/ 


5 ♦ 


. 1 

‘•f 




THE PINK KOSE 


ES/’ said Aunt Jane, laying aside her work 
and looking into the faces of the four little 
\—J Holcombes who were seated around her, ^^I’ll 
tell you a story, and iPs a true one, too, and it’s 
about one of the nicest, sweetest girls that I ever 
knew. 

‘^There was a time, though, when she was tempted 
to do something very wrong; but then, you know 
temptations come to the best of us. It isn’t being 
tempted that hurts ; it’s the giving way to it. 

^^I think Jessie Starr must have been ten, for I 
was twelve that summer, and she was, I think, two, 
or nearly two, years younger. I didn’t know her 
so very well at the time this happened, although we 
grew to be great friends afterward. 

“They — I mean by that, Jessie, her mother and 
the two younger girls — had moved into the little 
place where we lived, just a few months before. It 

[ 51 ] 


52 


STO'RIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


was now nearing the end of the school year and 
Mrs. Starr was glad, for, as she said, it wouldn’t 
take quite so many clothes for the girls when they 
were out of school. 

‘‘One morning, just a few days before the term 
closed, Mrs. Starr, watching Jessie as she went down 
the street, said to herself: ‘It will be a long time 
yet before she will be big enough to help. I 
wouldn’t care if I had money, and if I did not feel my 
own health breaking under the strain. Eeally, I 
don’t know how I am going to get along another 
year. But I am not going to worry. There will be 
a way.’ Then, while still looking after the little 
girl, she whispered, ‘Keep my darling to-day, and 
don’t let any harm come to her.’ 

“In just a few moments Jessie was passing the 
Winckler residence. It was unusual for her to go 
that way, and I don’t know why she took that route 
this time, though I think that she may have been 
a little late, and it was perhaps nearer. 

“It was a lovely place, with its old-fashioned house 
and well-kept lawn. In the corner of the yard and 
right where J essie passed close by it, was a rose bush 


THE pink; rose 


53 


and, even if she had tried, she couldn^t have helped 
seeing the pretty pink rose that had found its way 
between the pickets of the fence, and now hung so 
gracefully before her. 

^Oh, oh ! what a dear rose !’ thought she, placing 
her face close to it and breathing its sweet perfume. 

^‘Now, if there was one flower that she liked most 
of all, it was the rose; and above all others she pre- 
ferred the pink ones. So it was no wonder that 
she paused to admire, though that moment came 
very near changing her whole life. 

‘‘It’s queer, isn’t it,” said Aunt Jane, “that Satan 
would be mean enough to tempt a sweet, innocent 
little girl? But he always has been and he always 
will be, I suppose.” 

Then she continued: 

“I don’t think that Jessie had been there a min- 
ute till he was saying: ‘Why don’t you take it? 
Nobody’s looking! What’s one pink rose?’ And, 
oh! it was such a temptation as she drew it toward 
her and held it against her dress, thinking: ‘It’s 
just the shade of pink to go with this light blue.’ 
Then she took well hold of the stem, and in another 


54 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


instant would have broken it, had not a better voice 
said quickly: ‘Don’t do it; it’s wrong!’ 

“Immediately she put her hands behind her and, 
for a moment, lifted her dear little face toward 
heaven. Then, leaving the rose, she walked rapidly 
toward the schoolhouse, looking as happy as if she 
had owned all the flowers in the world. 

“That day, when home from school, a great sur- 
prise awaited her, for on the table was a beautiful 
bouquet of pink roses. 

“‘Where did you get them, mother?’ she asked. 

“‘They aren’t mine. They’re yours,’ said Mrs. 
Starr, with a smile. ‘Mrs. Winckler sent them.’ 

“ ‘Mine ! Mrs. Winckler !’ and there was a little 
more color than usual in the child’s face as she 
thought, ‘They look just like them. Oh, I’m so glad 
that I didn’t take it!’ 

“‘There was a note with them, too. She asks 
us to call at the house.’ 

“Early in the evening they called, as requested. 
Having introduced them to her little daughter, Mrs. 
Winckler suggested that they leave the little girls 


THE PINK ROSE 


55 


to get acquainted, while she and Mrs. Starr would go 
to the library. 

^‘When they were alone, she began: saw one 

of the most beautiful sights this morning that I ever 
saw or ever shall see, and I wanted to tell you 
about it.^ Then she told how, from her window, all 
unobserved, she had witnessed the scene at the rose 
bush and, before finishing, said : ‘And an angel from 
heaven couldn’t have made a prettier picture than 
she, standing there in the sunshine, with her little 
hands behind her and her sweet face turned upward. 
Then, to complete it, there was that pink rose nod- 
ding almose before her face. Of course I knew what 
she was doing.’ 

“Soon she explained how her own little girl, 
through an accident, had become crippled and how 
she had so much wanted to find a companion to 
spend at least a part of the long days with her, ‘and,’ 
she said, ‘that circumstance this morning won my 
heart, and at once I thought, “There’s the girl I 
want ! She’s true when she thinks there’s no one but 
God to see.” I tell you, Mrs. Starr, she’s a jewel.’ 

“So it came about that Jessie held a close asso- 


56 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


ciation with the Wincklers, which endeared her to 
them for all the years to come. 

“And that wasn’t all that came from it,” said 
Aunt Jane. “The Wincklers were very well-to- 
do people, and from that very day they saw that 
Jessie never wanted for clothes or any other comfort. 
They learned, too, that Mrs. Starr was a very worthy 
woman, and they helped to make life much easier 
for her. 

“Think of it, girls!” said she. “What a lot of 
good came from one little girl doing right just 
for one little moment!” 


LOVING HIS ENEMY 


0 NE Sunday morning Harry Saunders came 
from church and, going immediately to the 
library, where his mother sat reading, he said : 
’Twas a good lesson to-day. Miss Glenn talked 
about loving our enemies. She looked at me as if 
she thought I couldn’t do it. I could though, and 
not half try. Why, that would be easy enough!” 
^^Are you sure, Harry?” asked Mrs. Saunders. 
‘‘Sure,” answered he, positively. “But how’s a 
fellow going to love his enemies when he has none?” 
And so he went on, half wishing that he did have 
one, “just to show Miss Glenn.” 

Harry left the room before his mother had time 
to say more, but what she thought was : “I hope that 
if ever the time comes, it will be as easy as he 
thinks.” Never did it enter the mind of either of 
them that the time would so soon come when he 
would be put to the test. 


58 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


It happened in this way : In the little town where 
they lived the school children had been given seeds 
and bulbs, and great credit would be due the child 
who was most successful in the raising of plants 
grown from them. 

Harry had taken great interest in this matter, 
and the consequence was that he had as fine a little 
garden as could be found anywhere around. 

Dick Harwood lived next door, and just over the 
fence from Harry’s was his garden, nearly as good, 
though both boys knew that Harry’s was the better 
of the two. 

Monday morning came — the very next morning 
after the opening of our story. Harry had risen 
early, so that, after having had his breakfast, there 
was still half an hour before schooltime. 

There had been a light rain during the night, and, 
feeling sure that his plants would look particularly 
well from the effects of it, he took his hoe and started 
for the garden. 

Little did he think that a great disappointment 
awaited him, but at the very first glimpse he dis- 


LOVING HIS ENEMY 


59 


covered that every one of his plants had been broken 
and lay flat upon the ground. 

He dropped his hoe and ran toward the house. 
Suddenly he slackened his speed, saying aloud, 
wonder.” Then turning around, he went back. True 
enough, right there in the garden were footprints in 
the earth made soft by the night’s rain. Following 
them, he found that they led straight to Dick Har- 
wood’s back door. 

Immediately Harry flew into a rage ; and it is not 
to be denied that many a boy even older than he, 
under the same circumstances, might have done the 
same thing. 

A minute later he rushed into the kitchen and, 
giving vent to his feelings, exclaimed : ‘^That horrid 
Dick Harwood! He has broken every one of my 
plants! I just hate him! You wait till I get hold 
of him, and I’ll give him one of the worst thrashings 
that he ever had !” Poor Harry ! He had forgotten 
how he had felt so sure. 

When Mrs. Saunders had quieted him, they went 
to the garden. Upon investigation she found the 


GO 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


story true and, from all appearances, they guessed 
they knew who did it. 

Harry’s mother felt very sorry, as she said : “It’s 
too bad, my boy; but say nothing about this and 
we will have a little talk to-night.” So he kept it 
to himself, though all day he felt as if he would like 
to get hold of the boy. 

That evening when he and his mother were alone, 
Mrs. Saunders opened the subject by saying, “It was 
a disappointment, I know; but never you mind, 
Harry. I’ve been thinking that we’d keep it all 
to ourselves. You can keep a thing, I know, for 
you have done it many a time. Then, too, you know 
there might be some mistake,” though, in her own 
mind, she felt quite as sure as he about the 
matter. 

A little further on in the conversation she said ; 
“Of course, we are very sorry about the garden; 
but don’t you feel more sorry for Dick ? How dread- 
ful he must feel to want to do a thing like that — 
if he did do it ! Now, remember, Harry, that we are 
not to say one single word about this. We will just 
wait and see how things work out. Now, while we 


LOVING HIS ENEMY 


61 


are waiting, you see if you can’t do Dick some good 
turn.” 

That was a new idea and, quick as a flash, Harry 
thought, ‘‘Why, that must be what Miss Glenn meant 
Sunday when she talked about ‘loving our enemies,’ ” 
and immediately he agreed, “All right, mother; I’ll 
do that.” 

The next afternoon, as Harry was on his way 
from school, he crossed the street just as the car 
came around the corner and just in time to hear a 
dog crying as if it were hurt. Hurrying in the di- 
rection from which the sound came, he found, lying 
right on the track. Trip, Dick Harwood’s little pet 
dog. 

Instantly, forgetting all else, he took the little fel- 
low carefully in his arms. “What a pity!” he 
thought, as he walked around to the doctor’s office 
to see what could be done. 

Upon examination a broken leg was found to be 
the most serious of his injuries, although there were 
several bruises. After the bone had been set and 
the little sufferer laid on a pillow in a basket, Harry 
started with him to find his master, all the time say- 


62 


STO'RIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


ing to himself, I^m sorry for 

Dick. He’ll feel bad about this.” 

Dick sat on the porch reading, 
and did not notice Harry until he 
was half way up the walk ; then he 
wondered whatever could be in the 
basket, that Harry should carry it 
so carefully, and called out : ‘What 
have you got, Harry?” 

“I hate to tell you, Dick; but 
Trip’s had an accident!” 

“An accident!” exclaimed Dick, “now, i’m sorry 
throwing aside his book and ad- . 
vancing toward the steps. 

“Yes, an accident,” replied Harry, at the same time 
setting the basket on the porch, “and the doctor 
said it was the greatest wonder in the world that 
he wasn’t killed.” Then, kneeling on one side of the 
basket, while Dick knelt on the other, he told the 
story. 

Dick was frightened, for, in his opinion. Trip was 
the best dog in the world; and there were tears in 



LOVING HIS ENEMY 


63 


his eyes as he asked anxiously: ^^Then the doctor 
didn’t think that he’d die?” 

“Oh, no. He thought he’d come out all right, if 
you take good care of him.” 

When the subject had been well discussed, and 
Harry had risen to go, Dick said: “Sit down; I’ve 
something to say to you. Say, Harry, you’re a fine 
fellow to do all this. And after all that I did, too ! 
Do you know who broke your plants off the other 
night?” 

Harry was surprised, for, in the meantime, he 
had forgotten that anything ever had happened 
other than Trip’s accident ; but finally he stammered 
something about a fellow not being supposed to 
know what was going on while he slept. 

Just what was said after that does not need to 
be told; but if you had seen them as they parted, 
you would have noticed that Dick had his money 
bank in his hand ; and if you had listened, you would 
have heard Harry say, as he went down the steps: 
“I couldn’t think of it, Dick ! I couldn’t think of it !” 



COUNTING HER BLESSINGS 


ELEN TENANT was preparing the supper one 
evening, when her younger sister, Jean, came 
u from school and slammed her books upon the 
table, saying, as she did so: ^^Oh, dear! When 
am I going to have anything new, I’d like to know ! 
I’ve worn this old dress and coat — I can’t tell how 
long!” 

^‘Why, Jean!” said Helen, ‘What makes you talk 
that way? I am sure that it hasn’t been long since 
the dress you have on was new, and your coat is 
good, and it’s nice, too!” 

“I don’t care!” said Jean, beginning to cry. “Other 
girls have new clothes, and I have to keep wearing 
the same old things !” 

“Hush!” said Helen. “Keep still! Don’t let 
mother hear you say that,” and in the same quiet 
voice, “Would you like to wear a new dress bought 
with the money that ought to have been used for 


[ 65 ] 


66 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


mother’s comfort? Or would you enjoy throwing 
aside your coat, which is nearly as good as new, 
and having another, when brother Tom needs a new 
one so much? You mustn’t expect too much, dear. 
There are others to be considered. Besides, Jean, 
I am thinking that you are not so much in need of 
things as you imagine. Suppose that you can’t 
have a new coat or dress or hat as often as some 
others have. WTiat does it matter? You are com- 
fortably dressed, and I am sure that no one can say 
that you were ever anything but well clothed.” 

By this time Jean had left the room, still com- 
plaining about not having anything. 

The truth was that, while there was no money 
for useless extravagance, Jean Tenant had a nice, 
comfortable home, and many things to make her life 
pleasant, though seemingly she did not know it. 

When alone, a cloud came over Helen’s face as 
she thought : “Oh, I wouldn’t have had mother hear 
her say that for anything ! The doctor says that she 
must have nothing to worry her. I’ll not tell her, 
though, I don’t know— I wish Jean didn’t feel that 
way.” 


COUNTING HER BLESSINGS 


67 


On the Sunday following, Miss Engle, Jean’s 
teacher, talked a great deal about enjoying one’s 
blessings and being grateful for them, and as she 
was about to close the teaching of the lesson, she 
said: ^^Really girls, if ever you have the first feel- 
ing of dissatisfaction, I know of nothing that would 
help you more than to hurry and right away do 
something for some one. 

know,” she added, ‘‘that we may sometimes be 
inclined to think that we do not have as much as 
we would like; but you should go with me and see 
some of the people whom I see from time to time. 
I am very sure that you would then think yourselves 
greatly blessed.” 

If she said this because of a talk which she had 
with Helen the day before, when calling at the Tenant 
home, Jean did not know it. 

When the hour was over and they were about to 
leave the church. Miss Engle, laying her hand on 
Jean’s shoulder, said: “I want to see you a mo- 
ment, dear.” 

Jean stayed, and the best way to tell you of what 
passed between them is to say that late in the after- 


68 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


noon of the next day they together went hurriedly 
through street after street of the large city, then 
down a long, narrow alley. When nearly at the end 
of it they climbed a dirty, rickety, old stairway. 

Pausing at a door, almost off its hinges, Miss En- 
gle knocked, at the same time whispering to Jean, 
^‘Don^t be afraid, dear.^’ Then they entered the most 
forsaken place that Jean had ever seen. 

There was but little in the room aside from a bun- 
dle of straw in one corner, covered, or partly cov- 
ered, with an old blanket, upon which lay a woman, 
so poor and pale that Jean at first wondered if she 
were alive. 

The moment the woman’s eyes fell upon Miss En- 
gle, she said in a faint, trembling voice : ‘'I felt ’most 
sure you’d come, Miss! It was a long night last 
night. The pain in my back was dreadful. The 
medicine helped some, but I don’t know what I’d 
do, if it wasn’t for you, and if the good Lord didn’t 
know.” 

Miss Engle did what she could to make the sick 
woman more comfortable. After having stirred the 
coals in the rusty, little stove, she made a cup of 


COUNTING HER BLESSINGS 


69 


tea, and took from her basket some nice rolls and 
butter. 

When the poor woman had eaten, “We thought 
perhaps you might like a song to-day, Mrs. Brown,’^ 
said she. 

“Bless your heart, Miss! IVe often thought I’d 
like a song, but when I can’t sing myself, and Kate’s 
gone all day, and there’s no one left but the little 
one, there isn’t much use wishin’.” 

“Yes, I know,” said Miss Engle, “but my friend 
has come to sing for you. Come, Jean.” 

The young girl stepped nearer and sang sweetly, 
“Jesus, Lover of My Soul.” There was a tremble 
in her voice before she had finished, and there were 
tears in her eyes when, at the close of the hymn, 
Mrs. Brown showed her appreciation with, “Beauti- 
ful! Beautiful, Miss! Makes it seem like heaven! 
I ’most forgot the pain.” 

At this moment a poor neglected-looking child, 
whom Mrs. Brown had spoken of as “the little one,” 
came into the room and, going shyly up to Jean, 
stroked the fur which hung from the young girl’s 


70 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


neck, saying over and over again, “Nice to be warm ! 
Mce to be warm!’’ 

Miss Etngle prayed in a few short sentences. Then, 
with a promise that she would call again soon, they 
left the room. 

On their way home but little was said, though 
Jean was thinking and Miss Engle was hoping. 

That evening when Helen and Jean had finished 
packing a basket for the Browns, Jean said: “I 
didn’t know that we had so much ; did you, Helen ?” 
and, without waiting for an answer, “Why, we have 
food and beds and fires and shoes and dresses and 
coats and hats, besides ever so many other things! 
Then, too, the doctor says that mamma will soon 
be well. We just have everything, don’t we? Helen, 
I’ll never find fault again, never!” 


CAUGHT IN TIME 


T WAS the day before Thanksgiving. There 
had been a strong, cold wind. The ground 
had frozen a little and was now being made 
white with fast-falling flakes of snow. ^^We’ll get 
enough of it by to-morrow,’’ said Grandpa Spen- 
cer, laying aside his paper and peering through the 
window at the dark clouds hanging in the west. 

^^Oh, dear!” worried grandma, “I hope it won’t 
be too bad,” thinking all the time of the new baby 
Mary was to bring on the morrow, and she did not 
want to be disappointed. 

Not one of the Spencer grandchildren — and there 
were nine of them — could remember a Thanksgiving 
Day which they, with their parents, had not spent 
at their grandfather’s. And it was a day long 
looked forward to, especially by those of the grand- 
children who, in turn, as grandma chose them, came 
the day before to help in preparing for the event. 



72 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


On this occasion, George Spencer and Harold Ar- 
nold were the favored ones. And no sooner had 
the conversation with which our story opens ended, 
than was heard the stamping of feet and the brush- 
ing of snow ; then in came the rosy-faced boys ready 
for the day^s duties. 

“They can^t do much, I know,” grandma had 
said, “but theyTl enjoy it.” 

And they did enjoy it, and perhaps one great rea- 
son was that, whether any one else thought so or 
not, they were never permitted to think that their 
help was not of importance, which was plainly 
shown When Harold, in all earnestness, said to 
George: “Grandma needed us, didn^t she?” 

After much had been done, grandma, knowing 
that they had come to that which would be real 
sport for the boys, said : 

“There are a couple of pumpkins and some corn 
in the basement; and if you will bring them, we 
will make the dining-room look pretty.” 

Before she was fairly through speaking, away 
flew the boys for the cellar and, when half-way down 


CAUGHT IN TIME 


73 


the stairs, ‘^There’s a mouse!’’ exclaimed Harold, ‘‘I 
saw him!” 

^ Where?” queried George, excitedly. 

^There! See him?” And Harold pointed to the 
little pile of corn for which they had been sent. 

^Wait a minute! Let me slip off these noisy 
shoes.” Soon George had left his shoes and stock- 
ings at the top of the stairs and, seeing Harold 
looking at his, as if thinking of removing them, 
‘^Yours won’t hurt,” said he. 

Stealing quietly along, they seated themselves near 
by and waited for the ^dittle mischief,” as they 
called him, to appear. 

Soon they saw a little moving of the husks; then 
they moved a little more and in another instant, 
the mouse crept out and, as if feeling perfectly at 
ease, unconscious of any danger near, slowly found 
his way around the corn, stopping to nibble here and 
there. 

Then, up, over the pumpkins he went; and Har- 
old’s eyes grew bigger and bigger, as ‘T’ll catch 
him!” whispered George, suddenly bounding for- 
ward, but not quite quickly enough, for, as if ac- 


74 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 



“i’ll catch him’’ 


customed to the game, the little gray creature scam- 
pered away and disappeared behind the wall, leav- 
the boys only to look in astonishment at the hole 
through which he had found safety. 

‘‘What a shame!’’ cried George, when the little 
fellow was out of sight. 

“He’s almost spoiled the corn! See!” lamented 
Harold, “he’s nibbled off a lot of it. A little more 


CAUGHT IN TIME 


75 


and he would have ruined the whole thing.” And 
Harold knew that he was right when grandma agreed 
with him and declared that it was a pity that any- 
thing so tiny as a mouse should make so much 
trouble, for now they would have to give up the 
idea of using the ears for decorating, and have all 
the work of shelling and stringing the kernels — a 
task which the boys enjoyed at first, but which be- 
came the least bit tiresome before they were through. 

^Ht^s prettier than the girls made it last year, 
isn’t it, grandma?” asked George, looking admir- 
ingly at the festoons of red and white corn, hanging 
so gracefully over the table. 

^^But the little mouse came pretty near spoiling 
the whole thing, didn’t he?” questioned Harold. 

^‘Yes, he did, my laddie,” answered grandma, lay- 
ing her hand on the little boy’s head, ^^and he made 
a lot of trouble as it was.” 

But no one imagined that before Thanksgiving 
Day would be over, something would take place 
which would come near causing more trouble than 
a dozen mice could ever make. It was this way: 

The anticipated day came, and with it the chil- 


76 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


dren and grandchildren, even to the tiny babe for 
whom grandma had felt so anxious. The decorations 
had brought forth many exclamations of delight. 
The dinner had been such as only grandma knew 
how to prepare. Everybody was happy, and every- 
thing was going well till along late in the after- 
noon. 

The younger ones were playing a game of ‘^Hide 
and Seek.” Harold stood with his face hidden in 
his arms, folded against the wall, and counted, ^^One, 
two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! 
Keady?” starting immediately toward the couch 
under which Guy lay. Then, quickly running back 
he shouted : “One, two, three for Guy !” 

“It^s no fair!” insisted Guy, crawling from his 
hiding-place, “Harold peeked!” 

“I saw him,” declared Amy, bobbing from be- 
hind the door, after which first one and then another 
appeared until all were on the scene. 

Poor Harold was greatly embarrassed at the con- 
fusion which he had created and, for a moment, 
felt like saying, “I didn’t! No, I didn’t!” but some- 
thing checked him and, instead, he said, “Never 


CAUGHT IN TIME 


77 


mind; let’s commence over again. I’ll be honest 
this time.” 

Soon he was again counting, ‘^One, two, three, — ” 
and the game continued; and this time, after hav- 
ing called, “Keady?” he had to hunt for those who 
were hidden. 

It was no small thing for Harold to own to hav- 
ing cheated, and he really was very sorry about it; 
and, years afterward, when relating the story, he 
said : 

^‘Yes, the mouse and I almost spoiled things; 
but there’s this much about it, while George didn’t 
get the mouse that nibbled the corn, I did catch the 
other little fellow that came near making me spoil 
everything. 

^^He made trouble enough as it was,” he added. 
^^But I got him, and I’ve been glad ever since, for 
there’s no telling whether they ever would have 
trusted me again or not, if I had let him go. And, 
besides all the rest, it would have been dreadful to 
feel that they didn’t believe in me.” 



i 



HOW AUNT JANE WAS CUBED 


UNT JANE sat quietly knitting one evening, 
when the bell rang and, upon opening the 
door, she found the four little girls who lived 
across the way. 

^^Come right in, dears, said she. ^‘Hang your 
wraps here; then come into the sitting-room. I’ll 
stir the fire a little. I’m real glad you came. Here, 
Margaret, take this little rocker.” 

So she went on till every one was made com- 
fortable. Then, taking her work again, she seated 
herself, preparing to have a nice evening with her 
little visitors. 

In the meantime. Tabby, the cat, had curled him- 
self on the rug before the fire and commenced purr- 
ing as if to entertain the company. 

When Aunt Jane had inquired about their mother 
and baby John, Mary, speaking for herself, as well 



80 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


as her sisters, said: ^Tell us a story, Aunt Jane, 
will you?” 

‘‘Tell you a story? Well, let me see,” holding 
her work a little closer. “What shall it be about?” 

“About yourself, auntie, when you were a little 
girl,” suggested Margaret, as she drew herself back 
in her chair and rocked a little harder, her eyes 
brightening in anticipation. 

“Very well; I’ll tell you a story about myself. 
It was something that happened when I was a little 
girl. I don’t feel very proud to tell it, though. You 
may know that, for after all these years my face and 
ears get hot the very minute I think of it. 

“You see, there were six of us. We each had 
our part of the work to do, and sometimes when I 
did not feel very ambitious, I fancied that I had too 
much to do, though when I think of it now, I am 
sure that it was such a little bit that I did. 

“One morning I was not a little, but a good deal 
out of sorts, I’m afraid; and before I had finished 
washing the dishes I think I must have been getting 
pretty cross, for I found myself saying aloud: ‘Oh, 
dear! I’m heartily sick of this whole thing, and I’m 


HOW AUNT JANE WAS CURED 


81 


going to have a change! I know what I’ll do. I’ll 
run away; that’s what I’ll do! I’ll go to Aunt 
Nan’s!’ And, really, girls, I ran away! 

remember it just as well as if it had happened 
yesterday. When I thought no one would notice 
me, I slipped quietly upstairs and dressed myself 
in my pretty blue calico, which I never thought 
of wearing except on Sundays. Then, with my best 
hat on, I took a basket which my grandmother had 
given me and placed in it some clothes and hand* 
kerchiefs and a few little things which I liked very 
much, for, truly, in my own mind, I never intended 
to come back — never! 

^When I thought no one was looking, I stole 
quietly down the stairs and, after making sure that 
there was no one in the kitchen, I hurried through 
and followed the walk to the end of the garden. 
At this very moment I can see how that little garden 
gate looked, and how carefully I lifted the latch 
for fear some one might hear me as I went out.” 

^‘But where did your Aunt Nan live?” asked Jose- 
phine, who was becoming interested. 

^‘Oh, she lived about eight miles away. I was 



“I STOLE QUIETLY DOWN THE STAIRS” 


HOW AUNT JANE WAS CURED 


83 


very fond of her, and I thought that if I could only 
reach her house I would be all right. And I fancied 
to myself what an easy time I^d have over there, 
with nothing to do but to sit on the porch, or lie in 
the hammock, and read some nice story book. 

^^It must have been nearly noon, I think, for I had 
walked some distance and was rather tired. Think- 
ing that it would be a good place to rest, I sat down 
beside an old bridge. It was a very hot day and I 
wondered if it were not almost time for the stage — 
you know they didn^t have street cars running 
through the country in those days. 

“Well, while I sat there I emptied the money 
from my little purse and counted it, for I had de- 
cided to ride, providing I had enough change. Just 
as I put the purse back into my pocket, sure enough, 
there came the stage around the corner. 

“I knew John, the driver, very well, and when 
he saw me, ^Hello Jane,’ he said, stopping his team. 
^Don’t you want to ride?’ 

“I assured him that I did. 

“Reining the horses a little to one side, ^Climb up 


84 


STORIEiS FOR THE TWILIGHT 


here, girl. If s all full inside,’ he said, extending his 
hand to help me. So I climbed up. 

‘‘I always had liked John but somehow it seemed 
that on that day he asked altogether too many ques- 
tions. They were something like these : 

Where are you going, Jane?’ ^You are a pretty 
small girl to be so far from home alone, aren’t you ?’ 
What have you got in your basket?’ And so he 
kept on, till I wondered what he would ask next. 

‘‘1 think it was about three o’clock when we drove 
up before Aunt Nan’s. I can assure you I felt rather 
queer when I went up the walk with my little basket 
on my arm ; for, while I was very fond of my aunt, 
I didn’t know how she might feel over seeing a 
runaway girl. 

^^Of course, I knew that she would not think it 
strange for me to visit her, for I often did that. 
But, dear me! how very uncomfortable I was after 
ringing the bell ! I am sure that if I had had any 
idea that I could have scampered away at that mo- 
ment without being seen, I should have done so. 

^^But it was too late, for very soon Aunt Nan 
was at the door. I never knew just how it was — 


HOW AUNT JANE WAS CURED 


85 


whether it was the look on my face, or the basket, 
or what; but, somehow, from the very moment that 
she set eyes on me I was conscious that she mis- 
trusted that there was something wrong. 

^^Along in the evening some one came to the door 
and handed my aunt what looked like a letter. 
After reading it she placed it on the shelf and, with 
a look which I could not understand, said : ‘I guess 
that weM better go to bed, Jane.’ 

^‘Next morning I was called for breakfast early. 
That was something unusual, for, when there, T had 
always been permitted to lie in bed till half-past 
seven or eight o’clock. 

‘^After the meal was over, auntie said to me: ‘I 
am very busy this morning, Jane, and you won’t 
mind washing the dishes, will you?’ I was sur- 
prised, though I tried not to show it; and, while 
that was the one thing that I didn’t want to do, I 
went at it as though it were the thing that de- 
lighted me most. 

‘When I had finished she said: ‘I want to have 
some peas for dinner, dearie. You’ll take that pan 


86 


STORIES FOB THE TWILIGHT 


and go to the last row in the garden, won^t you, and 
pick the dish about two-thirds full?’ 

^‘So I picked the peas, and shelled them ; and, after 
that, I dusted the rooms, while she prepared the 
dinner. And, mind you, she asked me, all the time 
acting as if she thought them the very things I was 
the most anxious to do. I don’t know whether she 
noticed it or not, but I am certain that I must 
have shown some surprise, for I never had known her 
to keep me hurrying in that way. 

''Before the second day was half through I was 
getting homesick. You may be sure I was very un- 
easy, for, besides all the rest, I expected that at any 
minute some one would be coming from home to 
inquire after me, and that the real truth would be 
known. 

"I remember that late in the afternoon I went 
to my room — my aunt thought I’d better brush my 
hair before supper — but, instead of doing as she haa 
bidden me, I lay down on the bed and commenced 
to wonder what my mother was doing and how baby 
Roy was feeling, and about his little tooth that was 
trying to find its way through. 


HOW AUNT JANE WAS CURED 


87 


must have fallen asleep, for the next thing I 
knew it was getting dark and Aunt Nan was bend- 
ing over me, saying, ^Come, Jane, I shall be glad 
if you will set the table for supper now.’ I went 
down-stairs and helped with the supper, but I could 
not eat one mouthful, and I know why, and you 
know why, and I’m sure that Aunt Nan knew why, 
though she never said a word. 

cried myself to sleep that night, thinking that 
just as sure as I lived till morning, just so sure 
would I go home to my mother — though I remember 
that there was quite a question in my mind as to 
whether a girl could live through a long night and 
feel as I did. 

^^When morning came, and I had told my aunt of 
my intention, she looked at me in a queer sort of 
way and said: ‘Oh, stay, Jane! I would love to 
have you.’ But in spite of her urging, at eight 
o’clock I stood at the front gate with my basket 
on my arm, and if ever a girl was glad, I was, when 
the stage came and I was on my way home. 

“Oh, how ashamed I felt as I thought the matter 
over! And to this day I can see the look on my 


88 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


motlier’s face when she saw me. She didn’t scold, 
though, for she wasn’t that kind; but I shall never 
forget how sorry she looked as I buried my face in 
her lap and cried, oh, so hard! Then I told her 
the story of how it all happened, and promised that 
I never would do anything of the sort again. 

^^After dinner I washed the dishes, and some way 
it didn’t seem hard at all. Then I went on an er- 
rand for mother, and I was real glad to do it; and I 
hugged baby Roy a little closer that day than I 
ever had before. You may be sure that I never felt 
like running away again — ^never!” 

^‘But, didn’t your mother know where you were?” 
asked Josephine, with wonder. 

''Oh, yes; I was going to tell you, that several 
years after that I was at Aunt Nan’s, and one day 
she was looking over a box of old letters. Handing 
me one of them, she said : 'Here is one which I think 
may interest you.’ 

"I took it, and what do you think? It was the 
very same letter that she received that night. My 
mother wrote it, saying that she had overheard me 
on that day when I vowed that I would run away. 


HOW AUNT JANE WAS CURED 


So she knew where I was, why I went, and all 
about it. 

^When I asked Aunt Nan why she made me work 
so hard, she laughed and said, thought I would 
cure y®u.’ ” 



THE OBJECT LESSON 


m HERE said Grandma Vincent, adjusting her 
spectacles, as she with her knitting, and Lucy 
with a book, seated themselves on the little 
vine-covered porch at the side of the house. ‘‘I hope 
we won^t be interrupted.” 

They had been there what seemed to them but 
a very short time, however, when grandma, hearing 
the click of the latch on the picket gate, looked up 
and said, ^^Here comes Joe with his little tin pail. 

^Toor man! I^m sorry for him,” she continued 
in a low voice, as he came up the narrow, graveled 
walk. He lives down here all alone. Nobody pays 
any attention to him. He comes for milk every 
day.” 

By this time, ^^Joe,” as everybody called him, was 
within hearing distance, and grandma, addressing 
him, said, ^^Good morning! Take a seat.” Then 
laying aside her work, and giving him a chair, 

[ 91 ] 


92 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


she took the little pail and went to the kitchen. 
She was back again in a few minutes, carrying the 
bucket more carefully than before; then setting it 
down, she turned and went to make ready the noon- 
day meal. 

She had not been gone long when Miss Vincent, 
or ^‘Lucy,” as we call her, having heard of Joe when 
on her previous visits at her grandmother’s and, 
consequently, feeling some interest in him, began 
conversation with: “It’s a perfect day!” 

“Yes,” came the response. 

^^See!” said Lucy, “I had been watching that for 
a long time before you came.” 

Looking in the direction in which she pointed, he 
saw, all safely sheltered and in just such a position 
that the leaves and the trellis made a pretty and 
artistic setting for it, a spider and its web. 

“Isn’t it wonderful,” she said, “that web all so 
perfect and even! It’s beautiful!” 

“It certainly is wonderful, and it may be that it 
is beautiful,” was the answer. Then, after waiting 
a moment, he added, “But I can’t see it.” 


THE OBJECT LESSON 


93 


“Can’t see it? Why 
not?” she asked, in a 
tone of surprise. 

“Because,” replied 
he, speaking slowly, “it 
tells too much of my 
life.” Then, looking at 
the object of their con- 
versation, “Do you see that fly in the web?” 

“Oh, yes; I noticed that.” 

“Well, to make a short story of it, while the wine- 
cup has woven the web, I have been playing the part 
of the fly, in real life.” 

Lucy knew well what he meant, and she listened 
in sympathy as he told, in part, of his years of misery 
and shame. A part of it, he said, was too dark to 
be told. 

After a moment of sad reflection, Joe added: “I 
wouldn’t care so much for myself ; but I’ve a mother 
at home whom I’d like to see again before I die.” 
Then, as if wondering: “At least, she used to be 
there.” 



94 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


He paused, and immediately Lucy asked: ^‘Why 
don’t you go back to her?” 

‘^Go back to her? A drunkard? Never! I broke 
her heart long ago, and now, should she see me 
in my condition, it would open the wound anew,” 
and he shook his head emphatically as he added, 
^‘Never ! Never !” 

“When I was but a boy,” he continued, “I re- 
member how many a time I knelt beside her, and 
in her dear, sweet voice heard her pray that I might 
be kept pure and true; and to-day I would give 
the world, if I had it to give, if I could kneel by her 
side again. But it’s no use,” he lamented, heaving 
a sign. “I can’t return to her a miserable wretch, 
and that means that I shall never see her again, 
never !” 

“Here’s my chance,” thought Lucy, and speaking 
quickly, “You don’t have to go back a drunkard,” 
she said. 

The man looked at her in astonishment. Lucy 
then rose and, breaking a small twig from the vine, 
reached up and placed it in such a way that she re- 


THE OBJECT LESSON 


95 


leased the apparently almost dead fly, and it flew 
away as lightly as if it had never been entangled. 

When they had watched the little insect out of 
sight, Lucy turned to Joe questioningly, and he an- 
swered, “You set him free, didn’t you?” 

It was just what she wanted him to say; and it 
was with tender sympathy that she replied, “Yes; 
and you told me that in life you were playing the 
part of the fly; and don’t you know that there is 
One who is able and willing to free you from the 
web of sin?” 

When she had finished, there were tears in the 
listener’s eyes, and his voice trembled as, staring 
into vacancy, he said: “Nobody cares!” 

“Indeed, somebody does care!” declared Lucy, 
speaking as if she knew of what she was talking. 

Grandma appeared at that moment and the con- 
versation ended. 

Many times during Lucy’s stay a similar talk 
took place, and usually on the little vine-covered 
porch. 

On the day after she had left for her home, Joe 
came on his daily errand and, as he was about to 


96 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


leave, said: suppose that I may as well say 

good-by/’ 

^^Good-by!” exclaimed Mrs. Vincent, in great sur- 
prise. 

^^Yes,” he answered, ^‘I’m going away.” 

^^Going where?” 

^^Going home,” said Joe. ^‘Miss Lucy said she 
was sure that my mother would be glad to see me, 
and I’m going.” 

As he went down the walk and through the gate, 
the dear old lady watched him, thinking, “It’s 
strange that he never before talked to any one con- 
cerning his life. I wonder if it was because no one 
seemed to care. I do believe that that girl would 
give her life, if necessary, if she thought that by 
doing it she would help some one. She thought she 
couldn’t stay another week because of that class 
of boys at the Sunday-school.” 

Then taking her broom she swept the porch and 
cleared it well of all dust, but never once did she 
disturb what she called, “Lucy’s object lesson.” 

One morning, a few weeks later, Lucy received 
a letter which read : 


THE OBJECT LESSON 


97 


dear Miss Vincent: I did as you advised 
me, and am now home again. Upon my arrival here I 
came immediately to the old house, but not having 
the courage to, enter, walked on past. Soon I dis- 
covered, though it was late at night, a light in what 
I knew used to be mother’s room. It took me back to 
the old time, and I could wait no longer. 

^^As I neared the door of her room, which was a 
little ajar, I saw my mother kneeling, and heard 
her praying earnestly. I pushed the door a little 
farther open and went in. She did not notice me, 
and I stepped quietly to her side and heard her 
say, ^Keep my boy to-night, O God, and bring him 
back to me.’ 

‘‘I stole softly from the room, fearing that it 
might frighten her if she saw me there; but the 
next day I made my presence known, and I need 
not tell you that we are again happy. 

^‘1 felt sure that you would like to know this. 

^^Of course, I shall always regret the wasted years 
and my mother’s sorrow, but I promise you, as I 
have promised God and my mother, that never. 


98 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


never, as long as I live, will I again be caught in 
the dreadful web. 




“Your friend, 
“Joe - 


THE KITE 


HERE are the children?^’ inquired Grandpa 
Milton one bright morning, as he and grand- 
ma were strolling through the beautiful 
grounds belonging to their son’s residence. 

“Oh, they’re not very far away, I guess,” was the 
answer. 

“Well, I haven’t seen them this morning. What 
are they doing?” 

“Oh, dear!” thought grandma. “What shall I 
say ?” 

She could not say that she did not know where 
they were, and she did not want to give away a little 
secret, which she was helping to keep, by saying 
that the children, who were Walter, Gladys and 
Fred Milton, were putting the finishing touches on 
what they pronounced “the best kite yet.” So she 
was glad when, at that moment, John, the gar- 
dener, called, and she did not have to reply. 


[ 99 ] 


100 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


It was a pretty kite! And all three had a part 
in making it, even to little Fred, though aside from 
the several times when he had been sent for more 
string or some other needed article, he had not done 
much except to ask questions, among which was 
one oft-repeated, ‘‘I can hold it, when it^s up, can’t 
I, Walter?” 

It was not the first kite that the Milton children 
had made, but with this one they had taken par- 
ticular pains, even to the decorating, because it was 
to be a complete surprise for grandpa. Now that it 
was nearly finished they could hardly wait, so anx- 
ious were they to see their grandfather’s delight. 
And little Fred well expressed his eagerness in say- 
ing, “Grandpa’ll wonder, won’t he?” while Gladys 
exclaimed, “He’ll never think we made it!” 

At last the work was completed; and if grandpa 
was not surprised, he certainly acted well the part 
when he and grandma accepted the invitation to 
see the children’s piece of workmanship and to wit- 
ness its first “fly,” as Fred called it. And, as they 
looked the kite over, it would have been hard to tell 


THE KITE 


101 


which were most pleased — the children or the grand- 
parents. 

^What have you named it?’’ asked grandma, after 
a moment’s admiration. 

^^High Flyer,” said Gladys quickly. 

‘‘Oh !” was the slow response. 

“Do you think that you have it rightly named?” 
asked grandpa, after having examined it well. 

“Oh, yes!” answered Walter, in great confidence, 
while Gladys showed her faith by saying, “We call 
it that ’cause, you know, it’s going away up and 
up,” Fred repeating after her, “It’s going up and 
up.” 

Grandpa made no reply, not even to shake his 
head; though what he thought was, “Maybe it will, 
and maybe it won’t.” However, he did not object 
to having the honor of holding the kite, and he made 
no mistake in letting it go at the proper time as 
Walter, unwinding the cord, took a fast run down 
the drive, looking back all the time to see what the 
result would be. 

Sure enough the kite went up, but when it was a 
little higher than the peak of the barn, and when 


102 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


every one had about decided it a success, for some 
unknown reason it took a sudden turn and came 
down. 

“You never can tell about those things,” said 
Grandpa Milton, when, after leaving the children, 
he and grandma were walking slowly toward the 
house. “I’ve made some that would fly, and I’ve 
made some that wouldn’t.” And the only encourage- 
ment he could give was, “You’ll just have to keep 
trying, that’s all.” 

So they kept trying and trying, changing it a lit- 
tle here and a little there, till they were nearly dis- 
couraged. 

At last, however, it proved a success, and they 
were more than glad as they watched it darting 
through the air, first this way and then that, till it 
was but a mere speck in the sky. 

A few years later, when the children were older, 
and grandpa, of course, was an old, old man, they 
were sitting together one evening, when Gladys 
asked: “Do you remember the kite, boys?” 

“Yes,” answered Walter, and they all smiled as 
they thought of that day’s experience. 


THE KITE 


103 


For a moment grandpa appeared very thoughtful. 
Then leaning a little forward and placing his elbows 
upon the arms of his chair, 
with a hand on either knee, he 
said : “I was thinking how it is 
that kites rise against the wind. 
It takes a good, strong wind, 
too, to make them go very 
high.” 

^^And that’s a pretty good 
thing to remember,” said he, 
nodding his head, ^Tor it’s true, 
too, that those of us who rise 
very high in life are those who, 
we might say, have been going 
against the wind.” The old man 
smiled. ‘‘And, children, I think that 
the winds commenced to blow for you 
about the time that that kite refused 
to go. 

“I mean,” he continued, “that no 
one ever amounts to much who has 
what might be called an easy life. 



104 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


The one who soars high is the one who mounts the 
difficulties. If you have a hard lesson to learn, go 
at it, determined to get it. Should you have a bad 
habit to overcome, say, ‘I will,’ and then do it. 

^^Oh,” said he, ^‘you will find that there are head 
winds all along through life; but don’t get discour- 
aged. Keep trying. God rules the winds, you 
know.” 


THE LIGHT OF HIS LOVE 


pjn HERB’S the new girl now!” thought Elsie 
III Manor, as, one morning while sweeping the 
LfLi veranda, she saw Mary Dengate, a young 
lady who had recently come to live next door. And, 
watching her as she went slowly down the walk, 
she said to herself, ^^I am not going to speak to her. 
I shall not even look that way. She never acts as if 
she saw me. I don’t care,” she added, giving her 
head an independent toss. Then, as she saw her 
turn to go back, she sang quietly a little song, and 
swept more vigorously, perhaps because she was 
thinking that she would not let the girl know that 
she noticed her. 

It was Mary, the new neighbor, who, in another 
moment, said, ‘^Good morning! Isn’t this a lovely 
day?” 

Then a short conversation followed, which closed 
with Mary’s expressing a wish that Elsie would call 
[105J 


106 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


in the afternoon, an invitation which was somewhat 
reluctantly accepted. 

^What am I going to do about it? Would you 
go?” asked Elsie of her mother a moment later. 

^^Go ! Why, surely I would go !” said Mrs. Manor. 
^‘Why not?” 

^Well, I suppose I will; but I’ll tell you, mother, 
she has lived right here beside us for two whole 
weeks, and I have seen her out ever so many 
times and might have spoken to her, but she never 
seems to see me. Two or three times I have been right 
on the point of speaking, when she would turn her 
face the other way; and I just made up my mind 
that she needn’t speak if she doesn’t want to. I 
don’t know what brought the condescension this 
morning, I am sure. I’d just like to stay away and 
show her that I don’t care. She’s always fixed up so 
nice.” 

Elsie hesitated to express what was in her heart, 
though she did it, and this was what she said: 'T 
can’t help it, mother; I know that it is wicked, but 
it does seem sometimes that there is not much jus- 


THE LIGHT OF HIS LOVE 


107 


tice in the world. That girl has everything for her 
comfort.’’ 

‘‘Never mind,” said Mrs. Manor, understanding, 
for she herself at times had felt somewhat disheart- 
ened. 

Early that afternoon Elsie waited in the parlor 
at the Dengate home and, while admiring its folds 
of soft-hanging draperies and its easy, cushioned 
chairs and beautiful velvety carpet which, with other 
furnishings, gave the place an air of elegance and 
refinement, she thought, “Oh, wouldn’t I like to 
live in a place like this! I wouldn’t ask for any- 
thing more. And there’s that grand piano! I am 
going to try it!” And, feeling quite at ease, she 
seated herself before the instrument and played 
softly. As she was thinking how differently it 
sounded from her little old melodeon, Mary entered 
the room, saying, “I am sorry to have kept you 
waiting.” 

“That was perfectly right, and I did not mind it 
at all,” was the reply. “I have been entertaining 
myself, you see.” 

“Yes ; play on,” said Mary, as she took a seat close 


108 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


by her visitor; and, while Elsie played snatches of 
one melody after another, they, in their girlish, in- 
formal way, talked on, first of one thing and then 
another, till Elsie had almost forgotten her sur- 
roundings. 

Presently Mary asked, “Do you know how I knew 
that you were on the porch this morning 

“Why, you saw me, of course,^’ answered Elsie, 
absent-mindedly, her fingers still upon the key-board. 

“No, I did not see you, and I have not seen you 
yet.” 

“Haven’t seen me yet!” exclaimed Elsie in aston- 
ishment, as she stopped playing ; and, turning quick- 
ly, she looked her new friend squarely in the face 
and saw two pretty brown eyes, which she after- 
ward declared to be the most beautiful she had ever 
seen, except that, to her surprise, there was no light 
in them. 

“Poor girl!” thought she, “and I said all those 
horrid things about you! And I’ve been envying 
you !” 

Soon Mary continued, “No, and I would be so 


THE LIGHT OP HIS LOVE 


109 


glad if I could see you — though I am very happy,” 
she added. 

^^But can’t you see at all?” 

^^Not at all. I heard you sweeping and moving 
the chairs, and that’s how I knew that you were on 
the porch; and when you sang, your voice told me 
that you were a young girl, so I dared to speak to 
you.” Then, with cheerfulness, she said, am 
glad that you came.” 

‘^So am I,” declared Elsie most heartily and with- 
out waiting, though she felt a deep sense of shame, 
as her thoughts went back to the morning. 

‘T do not often talk about myself, except to my 
friends,” said Mary after a moment’s silence. 

^‘But I am going to be your friend, so you may 
talk to me. Tell me all about it! Were you never 
able to see?” 

‘‘Oh, yes. Until six years ago my sight, I think, 
was perfect. I was then fourteen.” Then she told 
briefly of her days of suffering, and how, in some 
way, the optic nerve had been destroyed, and how 
the grief had borne upon her heavily at first. Then 
she said^ her face brightening : 


110 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


shall never forget that one morning, soon after 
I had learned the truth of my condition, and while 
my eyes were yet bandaged, I was sitting by my 
grandfather, resting my head upon his arm, when 
he read from Isaiah, this : ^And I will bring the blind 
by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in 
paths that they have not known : I will make dark- 
ness light before them/ 

“As he finished, he placed his arm about me and 
drawing me a little closer, said, ‘I remember, dear, 
that one day when you were just a little girl you 
went with me to the woods. We wandered far in 
among the trees where the shadows were very, very 
heavy, and there, in the deep shade, we sat down 
on an old log to rest. You, in your childish way, 
were inclined to talk, and I said to you, 'Keep 
still, dear, and listen to the pretty songs of the 
birds.’ 

“ 'I can see you now,’ he said, 'as you sat on that 
old log, with your bonnet pushed well back, while 
you listened so intently and heard the sweet music 
of the little songsters, which you never would have 
heard, if you had not been quiet, and if you had 


r 



112 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


not been in the depths of the forest. And I re- 
member, that when the sun broke through an open- 
ing in the foliage, you looked so happy and said in 
such delight, ^‘Pretty, grandpa, pretty 

^‘Then he went on and told me how for some rea- 
son which we could not understand, God led me 
where the shadows were deep in life. ^But,’ he said, 
Hf you will just keep quiet, dear, you will know 
of the gladness of His love as you might never have 
known, had you not been in paths where the shad- 
ows were heavy.’ 

^'He stopped a moment, and I felt a tear from 
his eye fall upon my face. Then he said, 'Kemember, 
Mamie, that the shadows are never so deep but that 
the light of His love will shine through.’ 

^‘So,” said the blind girl, “I have been keeping 
still, and I have proved it all true.” 

“And you are real happy?” asked Elsie. 

“Keal happy,” was the answer. 

The afternoon soon slipped away, and when Elsie 
related to her mother her new friend’s story, she 
finished with, “I ought to be happy, I am sure, and 


THE LIGHT OP HIS LOVE 


113 


I am going to be. Another thing, I am not going to 
say or think such unkind things any more.” 

And it was with a thankful heart that Mrs. Manor 
went to sleep that night, for the story had helped 
her, too, to feel something of the light of His love. 


i 




t, 



THE BROKEN VASE 


ELL, yes,’’ said Aunt Jane, in response to her 
little friends’ question, “I think that I can 
tell you a story.” Then, pausing a moment, 
she continued : 

^Tt’s something that happened a long time ago; 
and, though I was not a very big girl at the time, 
I remember it perfectly. It was when the Edgertons 
lived around the corner from us. 

knew Dora Edgerton real well. She was a 
nice girl, too, in many ways, and I rather liked her. 
She had some faults, though, which I did not like 
very well. One of them, and I guess it was the big- 
gest one, was that she had a great notion of not doing 
just as her mother told her to do. 

^ ‘There was a time, however, when I think she 
would have been very glad if she had heeded what 
her mother said. It was like this: 

“One morning when Dora was dusting the par- 


[ 115 ] 


116 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


lor, her mother, upon leaving the room, said, ‘Don^t 
open the east window, please.’ She had not been 
gone long, however, till Dora, feeling a little un- 
comfortably warm, threw the window wide open. 

‘^It wouldn’t have been so bad, girls, if that had 
been the end of it; but on a little stand right before 
the window stood a beautiful vase filled with pretty 
roses. 

^Dh, dear!” said Aunt Jane. It almost makes 
me tremble now when I think of it, for that win- 
dow hadn’t been open five minutes till a gust of 
wind blew the curtain, and away went the vase, 
flowers and all.” 

^Dh! oh!” exclaimed the little girls. 

^^Yes, and you would have cried Dh! oh!’ if you 
had seen that pretty vase broken in a dozen pieces, 
lying there among the roses, with the water drip- 
ping from the table. It was a picture in itself,” 
she added, ‘^though it was a very sad one.” 

The little girls looked surprised, and wondered 
what was coming, when Aunt Jane said: 

^^This was bad enough, to be sure, but what fol- 
lowed was a great deal worse. Whatever made the 


THE BROKEN VASE 


117 


girl do such a thing I don’t know, for she only 
made herself and everybody else more trouble, when, 
after closing the window, she slipped quietly from 
the room. 

^^She had no more than done so till her sister, 
Carrie, was upon the scene; and, spying Mouser, 
the pet cat, and mistaking his look of fright for 
one of guilt, she at once accused him with: ‘Did 
you do it, Mouser?’ 

“And, girls, that child stood right outside the 
door, and saw and heard the whole thing, and never 
said a word; but she felt very much grieved and 
her heart beat faster and faster when, after listen- 
ing to the conversation between Carrie and her 
mother, for Mrs. Edgerton had appeared in the 
meantime, she saw Carrie putting the cat into a 
box which stood on the back porch, and heard her 
say in disgust, ‘There! You’re a bad, naughty kit- 
ten, and you will have to stay there till you can 
behave V 

“This was about all that Dora could endure, 
for Mouser was quite as much to her, if not a little 
more, than he was to the rest of the house. 


118 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


^Oh, dear !’ she thought, ^How perfectly dread- 
ful T 

^‘Soon something was saying: Tor shame! How 
would you like to be shut up in an old box with 
only a little hole in the top of it, Dora Edgerton, 
and just because some one wouldn’t own up to what 
he ought?’ 

^‘It wasn’t very long after this until she confessed 
the whole thing; and, besides all the rest, she felt 
doubly ashamed when she saw poor Mouser come 
from the old box looking as if wondering whatever 
could have happened that he should have been so 
disgraced. 

''I tell you,” said Aunt Jane, 'dt was a pretty 
serious thing all around, but it helped Dora to de- 
cide the matter, that never again would she do what 
her mother told her not to do.” 


A QUESTION SETTLED 


T WAS toward evening. The day had been 
warm. ‘Wery warm for the time of year/^ 
said Mr. Rivers, as he and his wife were 
seated on the veranda of their pretty country 
home. Then, peering through the rows of apple 
trees which stood at the side of the house, where all 
day men had been busy picking and packing the 
luscious fruit, and where yet hung barrels more, he 
said: ^There’s a lot of those little gnarly ones left 
over. Well, they’ll make cider, I suppose.” 

Mrs. Rivers was quiet for a moment, then an- 
swered: “I had been thinking, James, that maybe 
you wouldn’t put in any cider this year.” 

^Why not?” he demanded and, without waiting, 
“Why! sure! We shall have to have some cider! 
We have never gone without.” 

“Well ” And before Mrs. Rivers had time to 

say more, he interrupted with: 



[ 119 ] 


120 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


^^Oh, I know what you^re thinking; but a little 
cider doesn’t hurt any one.” 

^‘1 am not so sure about that,” was the response; 
then, hesitatingly, and as if hardly knowing what 
to expect, she added, “There are the boys, you 
know.” 

“Yes,” said Mr. Rivers, dropping his head in 
thought, then adding abruptly, “I don’t think that 
a little will hurt them.” 

“I don’t know,” came the answer, “though I had 
thought that it might be well enough to be on the 
safe side.” 

“I don’t think that you need worry,” said he. 
“Sure! We shall have to have some cider!” 

James Rivers, though he seldom said so, knew 
that he had three of the brightest boys that ever 
lived; and he had no greater ambition than that 
they should grow to be men of greatness and honor. 
And while he himself was very liberal in his views 
on the subject of temperance, and did not think that 
a little cider would hurt, there could scarcely be 
found a man who despised drunkenness more 
than he. 


A QUESTION SETTLED 


121 


Just around the corner from where they lived, 
among the trees, planted there by those who looked 
upon the spot as almost hallowed ground, stood a 
little brown church; and in one of its pews, on the 
evening following the conversation with which our 
story opens, among others gathered there, sat Mr. 
and Mrs. Kivers. It was no unusual thing for them 
to be there. In truth, they seldom missed the prayer 
service. 

In opening, the minister read from the twenty- 
third chapter of Proverbs, commencing with, “Who 
hath woe? who hath sorrow?’’ 

Before the meeting closed, a man, well dressed 
and of good appearance, rose near the door and 
said: 

“I am an old man. Still, in a way, it seems but 
yesterday that I was a child. 

“There were three of us, Mary, Lucy and I. No 
children ever had a better or pleasanter home 
than we. 

“I remember so well,” he said, “how at this time 
of the year we used to have such fun, helping to 
gather the apples. And I shall never forget the 


122 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


two beautiful old trees that stood apart from the 
rest, and which were always of special interest to 
me — perhaps because my father had told me how 
he himself had planted them there. 

“I remember very well, when I was just a little 
lad, my mother used to send us to those trees for 
apples, and, sometimes,” he continued, while a faint 
smile played round his mouth, ^‘we used to take a 
bigger basket than we needed and on our way home 
we would put ‘Lute^ as we called her, in with the 
apples and carry her across the field.” 

Then, looking as if he were living it all over again, 
he added, remember that, though I was a sturdy 
little fellow, she was about all that I could help 
to carry.” 

After a pause, he spoke slowly and earnestly, 
^^Yes, I helped to give her a good time then, and I’m 
glad of it, for heaven knows that I gave her trouble 
enough afterward. You never could have believed 
it, had you seen us there so happy.” 

The room was quiet. No one moved, as, with 
some hesitation, he continued: ^^Not very far from 
where we lived was an old cider mill and, when I 










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A QUESTION SETTLED 


123 


had grown to be quite a boy, and yet not very big, 
I used to go with the other boys down to the old 
mill. At first it was just for a drink of sweet 
cider, but after a little we were trying that which 
was not altogether sweet. And when I had scarcely 
reached the age of manhood, and before I knew it, 
it was beyond my power to let that which was 
stronger than cider alone. 

went to school, though not as much as I would 
have, had it not been for that cursed drink.’^ 

He stopped for a moment, then added, ^^My mother 
was a beautiful woman. I know it now, and what 
a pity that I did not appreciate her then! I re- 
member how she used to look at me with her eyes 
of love, and say, ^Don’t be late to-night. Tommy.’ 
She used to tell me that she couldn’t go to sleep 
till she knew that I was in, and night after night I 
kept her waiting till into the small hours. Then, when 
she would hear me enter the house, she would always 
call, ‘Are you home, Tom?’ And usually I was in 
a condition where I could barely manage to say, 
‘Yes.’ 

“I scarcely know myself how it came about, but 


124 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


one day I left home, resolved never to return. 
Neither do I know how it was that one day, after 
some years, I went back — only to find the old house 
empty. 

^‘They told me that long before my mother had 
died.’’ And he wiped the mist from his eyes, as he 
said, “A friend of hers informed me that during 
her illness she, in her delirium, kept saying over 
and over, ^Are you home, Tom?’ And nothing would 
comfort her till my father, in a voice much like my 
own, would answer, ^Yes, mother, I’m home.’ 

^^My father, too, had died of a broken heart, and 
I paid for it all, when, besides all this, I learned 
that sisters did not like to hear my name— not 
because they did not care for me. They loved me too 
well — more than I deserved. 

^^Now,” said he, with earnestness, “what I want 
to tell you is this : Since that memorable day I have 
hated the cider mill. Oh, I know, too often we do 
not realize the danger point till after we have 
passed it! 

“I’m a better man now; but, oh, the misery that 
I have given! Yet, through God’s promises, I am 


A QUESTION SETTLED 


125 


living in anticipation of the day when I shall clasp 
my mother in my arms, and she shall know that I 
am Home.’’ 

The man sat down. The service closed, and the 
people went away thoughtful. Not a word passed 
between Mr.* and Mrs. Rivers, till they were nearly 
home, when he, in a tone of decision, said : 

‘There’ll he no more cider in our cellar, mother. 
It’s settled, and settled for good.” 



“NEVEB MIND, WILLIE. I’LL STAND IN YOUE 

place” 


LOVING AS HE LOVED 


m T WAS not because Willie Conway^s ball was 
a red one, but because it was a new one, that 
he enjoyed it so much, and for that very rea- 
son, though it had not been three minutes since 
his mother had said, ^^Don’t toss it in the house, 
Willie; you must got outside for that,” up went the 
little ball almost to the top of the room. 

^‘My, that was a good one !” thought he and, catch- 
ing it as it rolled along the floor, gave it another toss, 
and still another, and was having a fine time till, 
very much to his surprise, when he had watched it 
dart almost to the ceiling, it came down right on 
the pretty lamp shade, breaking it and scattering 
the tiny pieces over the floor. 

^‘Oh, Willie !” said Mrs. Conway, ^^that is too bad ! 
Don’t you know that I warned you that you must 
not play ball in the house? You must let me have it 
now, and to help you to remember, you may stand 


[ 127 ] 


128 


STOEIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


over there for awhile/’ she said, pointing to the 
corner of the room. 

^Toor boj !” thought she, gathering up the pieces, 
don’t like to punish him, but he must learn to 
obey.” 

While she was thus thinking, Willie, looking as 
if all fun for him had ended, went slowly to the cor- 
ner, where he stood quietly for a few moments. Then 
feeling very much ashamed, he buried his face in 
his arms and cried as if his heart would break. 

While the ball had been flying about, little Edith 
sat upon the floor busy with her playthings; but, 
after the crash of the shade, she scarcely moved till, 
seeing her brother cry, she threw her book to one 
side and her doll to the other and, going to him, 
placed her hands tenderly upon his arm, saying in 
a comforting tone, ^^Never mind, Willie. I’ll stand 
in your place.” 

Dear child! Little did she know the story that 
she was telling, and little did she realize that she 
was living just what was meant by, ^^Love one an- 
other, as I have loved you.” 


THE KOBIN’S TEXT 


HAVE told you stories and stories about 
girls/’ said Aunt Jane Maxwell, ^^and I have 
told you some about boys. I’m going to tell 
you another to-night about one of the best boys, I 
think, that I ever knew — and I have known a great 
many of them.” 

After thinking for a moment she continued, ‘^1 
don’t know that I ever did know one who was really 
bad.” 

Then, laughing and shaking her head a little, as 
she rocked to and fro in her old-fashioned chair, 
shall never forget, though, how provoked I was with 
Jimmy Haines, and how I didn’t speak to him for 
days after he declared that my little brown dog 
was good for nothing but to eat and run. 

^^But my story is about a boy whose name was 
William Weldon. Willie’, we all called him. 

don’t know just how old he was, though I think 



130 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


about ten. Anyway, he was sick. I remember that 
I used to feel sorry for him, as I would see him on 
my way to school, propped up with pillows in the 
big chair just inside the window. It did seem too 
bad, though I am not sure but it was the best thing 
that ever happened to him. 

remember so well that in the yard, right near 
the window where Willie sat, was an apple tree, 
which spread its branches in such a way that it 
seemed it must have been there on purpose to com- 
plete the picture which Willie himself made. Then, 
too, I would not be telling the story, had it not been 
for that beautiful old tree, for without it there was 
nothing that would have tempted the pretty robins 
to build their snug little nest just outside the 
window. 

“For days Willie watched while the birds, all 
unaware of the entertainment they were giving, 
brought the tiny sticks and bits of straw and all 
that was needed for the nest, and placed them very 
carefully, every now and then peeping knowingly 
from behind the foliage, glancing a bright eye toward 


THE ROBIN’S TEXT 


131 


the window, as much as to say, ‘It’s a secret, little 
boy. Do you think any one will know ?’ ” 

“And weren’t the little birds afraid?” asked Jose- 
phine. 

“No, though I think they might have been if the 
shutters had not kept Willie from being in full 
view. Then, too, he kept very still, you know.” 

After thinking for a moment: 

“I hardly know how to tell you the rest,” she 
said, “yet I remember it perfectly. 

“Willie watched what seemed to him a long 
time for the first sign of the baby birds — and it 
was strange,” she said, “how it all came about. It 
was on the last day of school. Willie had been 
wondering whether it was right for a boy to have to 
be sick, and he was just on the point of finding fault 
because of his having to sit there so much of the 
time, when he received a card from his teacher. 
Miss Harlow. 

“I shall never forget how she looked that day, as 
she took a package from her desk and said, ‘Here’s 
a card for each of you, and one for Willie Weldon. 


I 



“feeding her little ones” 


ft 



THE ROBIN’S TEXT 


133 


I would like to have you tell me which one we shall 
send him/ 

‘We were not long in deciding that he should 
have what we thought the prettiest one. And, girls,” 
said Aunt Jane, “you will hardly believe it when I 
tell you, for it was the strangest thing; but that 
card had on it a picture of a robin perched on the 
edge of its nest feeding its young. At one side and 
under it in pretty gilt letters, were these words: 
‘Your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not 
much better than they?’ 

“When the card had been delivered and Willie 
had admired it and read that beautiful verse at 
least half a dozen times, he looked from the win- 
dow and saw it all made true, for at that very mo- 
ment there was the mother bird feeding her little 
ones. 

“Speaking in a low voice, he repeated : ‘Your heav- 
enly Father feedeth them.’ Then, as if to make 
sure that he had made no mistake, he read at the 
bottom of the card: ‘Are ye not much better than 
they?’ And soon he was thinking, ‘It isn’t right 


134 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


for a fellow to fuss and complain because he is 
sick/ 

dear!” said Aunt Jane, ‘dt does seem a pity, 
but Satan is sure to have something to say, and it 
doesn’t seem to make any difference whether it’s a 
boy or a girl, or whether they are sick or well, for 
right at that moment he commenced with: 

^‘^But, don’t you know that it’s different with 
birds ? There’s no reason for their not being happy.’ 

^‘But, I think,” said she, ^^that was one time when 
Satan was very much ashamed of himself, for he 
didn’t have anything more to say, when at that in- 
stant that dear little robin hopped onto the branch 
close by the window and, twisting her head quickly 
first to one side and then to the other, peeked her 
keen little eyes into the window as if wanting to 
say: 

“ ^Don’t you remember, Willie, the day when the 
wind blew and the rain came down in torrents, till 
I thought that I surely would be drowned? And 
have you forgotten the night when that cruel cat 
came bounding up the tree, and if I had been a sec- 
ond later in dipping my head she would have had 


THE ROBIN’S TEXT 


135 


me? Don’t you know who takes care of me?’ Then, 
flitting away, she perched herself on a higher branch, 
chirping gladly as if in praise for it all, while Willie 
said: 

“^Sure, little robin; I had never thought of it 
in that way before. I see that you believe in your 
part of the verse, and I am going to believe in mine.’ ” 

It has been a long time since Aunt Jane told these 
stories, though now they are oft repeated by those 
who commence them with: 

remember that when I was a little girl. Aunt 
Jane told us a story about ” 



“aren’t they nice, jimmy?” 


EEAPING HIS CHEISTMAS SOWING 


EEN’T they nice, Jimmy?’’ asked little Meg, 



as she, with a faded shawl pinned around her 


shoulders and an old brown fascinator over 
her head, stood, with her brother, before a large, 
beautifully decorated shop window on the day before 
Christmas. 

^^Aren’t they pretty ! Who’s going to get all those 
nice things? Don’t you wish you had those skates, 
Jim?” 

So the little girl talked on, her eyes fairly beam- 
ing with delight, which gave special interest to her 
somewhat begrimed face. 

wish I had those shoes! Don’t they shine?” 

Then, after a moment, with earnestness, ^‘There 
isn’t any Santa Claus! Anyway, if there was one, 
I don’t suppose he’d know I wanted them, do you?” 

Having waited for an instant for an answer which 
did not come, she repeated: 


[ 137 ] 


138 


STOKIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


^^Say, Jimmy, do you suppose so?’’ 

^^No,” said he, ‘^with a peculiar little shrug, which 
sent the strap of the canvas bag an inch or two 
higher on his shoulder. don’t suppose anything. 
All I Jmow is, Christmas wasn’t made for folks in 
the alley. It’s just for folks living on the avenues 
and riding in automobiles and fine carriages, you 
know.” 

^^Don’t you believe it, Jimmy!” emphasized Meg. 
‘Ht isn’t so ! Mother says we must just keep right on 
praying, and things are bound to come out right!” 

‘Well, maybe it isn’t so,” said Jim, in a tender 
tone. 

Then, as if to make right any discouragement that 
he might have given, “You wait till I’m big and I’ll 
buy you all sorts of coats and hoods and trunks full 
of dresses,” and Jim’s eyes grew brighter as he went 
on with, “and yards and yards of pretty ribbon, and 
mittens with fur all round, and big dolls and little 
dolls and 

As he paused to take breath, Meg interrupted 
with: 

“And shoes?” 


REAPING HIS CHRISTMAS SOWING 


139 


‘^Yes, and shoes,” said he, straightening himself 
a little at the very thought of the time when he 
would be a man. 

‘‘You know. Sis,” he continued, “I had a wide- 
awake dream last night.” 

“What^s a wide-awake dream, Jimmy?” 

“Oh, Meg,” said he, with an air of conveying the 
idea that he thought her knowledge of things a very 
limited one. “Don^t you know what’s a wide-awake 
dream? It’s what a fellow dreams with his eyes 
wide open — maybe a-standing or a-walking — when it 
seems like he was a-seeing something away off. Well, 
I had one last night. You see, I kept trying to go 
to sleep, Meg, but I just couldn’t. Somehow, my 
feet would crawl out from under that old quilt, and 
I just had to do something to get warm, and so I 
had one of those dreams. 

“I dreamed that I was a big man, and we lived 
on the avenue in one of those brownstone-fronts — 
you’ve seen them — and Marm didn’t have anything 
to do but to stay in a nice parlor and sit in a great, 
big chair. I sat in one once,” he said, drawing him- 
self into a queer little bunch. 


140 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


Then, an instant later, he resumed his story 
^with : 

dreamed that I had a big automobile with red 
cushions, and I ran up to the door in it and blew 
the horn, honk ! honk ! and out came you and Marm, 
all dressed up in warm fur. And the way we did 
spin down the avenue!’^ 

‘^Oh, Jimmy, won’t that be fun?” said Meg, in 
great confidence, for her brother had talked with 
such enthusiasm that she thought the dream must 
soon come true. 

^^Yes,” said Jim, dancing from one foot to the 
other to keep warm. 

Then looking at the little girl’s half -bare feet, ^^You 
look cold, Meg. Stick your foot up here and let 
me rub it. There! Isn’t that better?” 

Mr. Dunham, who lived a few miles outside the 
city, was passing and, being attracted by the chil- 
drens’ voices, unbeknown to them, listened to the 
conversation which you have read. Stepping a lit- 
tle closer, he interrupted by asking genially: 

''How’d you little folks like a sleigh-ride to-mor- 
row ?” 


REAPING HIS CHRISTMAS SOWING 


141 


sleigh-ride!” exclaimed Jim, while Meg looked 
at the big man from the corner of her eye. 

We shall not tell you all that followed; but that 
night while Mr. Dunham stood warming by his fire, 
looking the picture of all that ever could have been 
meant by the words, ^^good will,” he surprised his 
wife with: 

^‘Well, Mother, did you know that we’re going 
to have company for dinner to-morrow?” 

^^Company ! For dinner ! To-morrow !” exclaimed 
she. ^Why, John, what do you mean? I haven’t 
done the first thing for company! Who’s coming, 
I’d like to know?” 

^Well, now,” said he, good-naturedly, “I guess 
you’ve got me, for I don’t know as I can tell exactly 
who they are.” 

^^For pity’s sake, John! What’re you thinking 
of? Going to have a dinner party and don’t know 
who’s coming. And nothing to eat, either! Don’t 
you know that it takes more to feed ten or a dozen 
than it does just us two?” 

^Well, there won’t be quite that many, though 
I’m thinking that they’ll be right hungry.” 


142 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


Mr. Dunham was not long in telling how it had 
all come about, and that he was going to drive into 
the city on Christmas morning and bring Jim and 
Meg out for the day; and his good wife laughed a 
little when he said: 

“Don^t you worry about the dinner, Mother. I’ve 
provided for all that.” 

And she was sure that he had when, in the even- 
ing, they untied the packages brought from the 
sleigh; and her face shone with pleasure as, after 
unwrapping the Christmas surprises for the chil- 
dren, she said: 

always declared, John, that you were the dear- 
est and most thoughtful man that ever lived!” 

It is enough to say that no one ever had a happier 
Christmas than did Jim and little Meg. 

After the day was over, and Mr. and Mrs. Dun- 
ham had taken the children back to the city, they 
waited a moment at the end of the alley, watching 
the little ones walk away, but drove on too soon to 
see Meg as, turning proudly to her brother, she 
said in one breath: 

^^Don’t I look as if I were somebody? Isn’t this 


REAPING HIS CHRISTMAS SOWING 


143 


a pretty coat? Don’t my shoes shine? Say, Jim, 
your coat’s warm, too, isn’t it? Thought you said 
Christmas wasn’t made for folks in the alley!” 

Upon opening the door of the little room which 
they and their mother called home, the sight which 
greeted them was such as to make them exclaim, 
^‘Oh, Marm! Are they all ours? Where did you 
get them?” 

And, while Mrs. Glover explained that their newly- 
made friends had sent them, Jim, greatly excited, 
counted with his finger, ^‘Apples, potatoes, flour, 
meat, sugar and a whole lot more!” Then, turning 
quickly on his heel, “Whoever heard of the like?” 
he added. 

«««■««« 

Years have gone since the opening of our story, 
and it is another Christmas Eve. Many changes 
have taken place; among them, Jim and Meg have 
grown to manhood and womanhood. Mrs. Glover 
has died in the meantime, but not until having had 
the pleasure of seeing Jim holding a responsible 
position with a large business firm in the city. And, 
through his income, hard-earned at first, he has 


144 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


been able to give Meg and himself a fair education, 
and to make the last years of his mother^s life more 
comfortable. 

On this Christmas Eve, as he came from his place 
of business, he said to Meg, or ^^Margaret,’’ as she 
was now called: 

‘‘Say, Margaret, I read an article in the paper to- 
day, telling of some old people named Dunham, who, 
in some way or other, have been unfortunate and 
lost their home. It was strange that I happened 
to notice it; but the very minute I saw the name, I 
was of the impression that it was the same Mr. and 
Mrs. Dunham — ^you know who.^’ 

“Yes.’' 

“Well, I’ve investigated and have found that they 
are the same people; and I have bought the mort- 
gage, and I am going to see that they stay right 
in their little home, and it shall be their own, too! 
I can do it. And we’ll see that they do not want for 
anything.’^ 

“Oh, Jim!” said Margaret, “that will be lovely! 
And I’ll help, too, for I can do lots of little things 
for them.” 


REAPING HIS CHRISTMAS SOWING 


145 


It doesn’t seem possible! But the next day Jim 
drove to Mr. and Mrs. Dunham’s and took them 
home with him for their Christmas dinner; and, 
after the meal was over, it was Jim and Mar- 
garet’s turn to give their holiday surprise. So, 
bringing from the library a large envelope, after a 
few words of explanation, Jim threw into the open 
fire the mortgage, the burning of which meant that 
their good friends, Mr. and Mrs. Dunham, should 
remain in their dear, old home. 






HEARTS MADE GLAD 


PSTAIRS, in a room which Mary Nestor 
called her own, stood, packed almost to over- 
flowing with such articles as one might ex- 
pect to see in a girPs wardrobe made ready for a va- 
cation, a medium-sized trunk. 

Mary had been invited to spend a month with a 
favorite cousin ; and twice she had been nearly ready 
to go; but each time for some unexpected reason 
the visit had been postponed and, quite naturally, 
each time, the event being a much-anticipated one, 
the change in her plans had brought with it, in some 
degree, at least, a disappointment. But now the 
day was set, and everything was in readiness for 
her leaving on the morrow — and it really looked 
as if she were going! 

Late in the afternoon she might have been seen, 
her face beaming with happiness, coming from one 
of the principal banks in the city and hurrying along 



148 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


the street, never slackening her pace, unless 
it was when once or twice she took from her purse 
an envelope and glanced at it, replacing it carefully 
as if it were something of importance. And it was, 
for in it was the value of that which her father had 
given her in the morning, saying, ^‘Here, my girl, 
take this and have a good time! I am sure that 
you deserve every bit of it.’’ 

On her way home, as she was passing a grocery, 
her attention was attracted by a voice calling, 
“Hello, Mary !” and, turning, she saw in an invalid’s 
chair, much too big for her, a young girl, near her 
own age. 

“Why, hello. Flora!” returned Mary. “How is 
this? I didn’t know that you were sick, though I 
remarked to mother that I had not seen you for 
some time.” 

When she had expressed her sympathy, she 
stepped inside the store and there met Flora’s moth- 
er; and, in answer to her inquiry, Mrs. Dane re- 
plied, “Yes, and the worst of it is, I’m afraid that 
she’ll never be any better. The doctor says that a 
change might do her good, but, dear me ! I don’t see 


HEARTS MADE GLAD 


149 


how it’s possible for her to have that, for it’s all 
that I can do to keep the little ones going, and I’m 
working hard, too.” 

When Mary was again on her way, she walked 
more slowly than before and seemed in deep thought. 
Upon reaching the house she bounded up the steps, 
saying half aloud, ^^I’ll do it, if they’ll let me.” 

After having laid aside her hat, she astonished 
her parents with: 

^^Say, do you care very much if I don’t go?” 

^^Don’t go!” exclaimed Mrs. Nestor. ‘‘Why, dear, 
you’re all ready!” 

“I know, but if you don’t care, and if you will 
let me have the money for something else, I think 
I’d rather stay at home.” 

“Have the money for something else!” said her 
father. “And give up the visit that you’ve looked 
forward to for so long!” Then seeing the earnest 
expression on his daughter’s face, he asked, “What’s 
the matter, child? What do you want?” 

“I don’t want anything,” answered Mary, speak- 
ing rather slowly; “but I know of some one who 


150 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


needs something and needs it a great deal more 
than I do the visit.’^ 

don’t know who it can be, or what they can 
need,” said Mr. Nestor, looking again at the book 
which he had been reading. 

‘‘I know, but let me tell you, father,” said Mary. 
Then, stepping a little closer, and laying her arm 
upon the corner of his desk, she told of her having 
met Flora and her mother, and how she had thought 
that she would be glad to remain at home and give 
Flora the change which the doctor had advised. 

When she had finished, her father, very thought- 
fully, asked: ‘^So you think that you want to give 
up the visit that you have anticipated for so long? 
And are you sure, Mary, that you would be happy 
in doing this?” 

There was an assurance in the answer when it 
came, for it was this : 'Wes, I want to give up the 
visit. It wasn’t easy at first when I thought of how 
everything was ready; but it’s all settled now, pro- 
viding that you are willing. And I would be sure 
of being happy,” she continued, in answer to the 
second question, "for wouldn’t that be doing what 


HEARTS MADE GLAD 


151 


was meant by, Hf ye know these things, happy are 
ye if ye do them’?’^ And by this time her face was 
all aglow, as if she were already enjoying the prom- 
ised blessing. 

Mary was called from the room at that moment 
and, when she had gone, Mr. Nestor, with an ex- 
pression of earnestness mingled with pleasure, 
asked, ^What shall we do?’’ 

^^Let her do it,” replied the mother quietly, as 
Mary again entered ; then, with kindliness, she 
added, “I don’t suppose that Flora has clothes suf- 
ficient for her going.” 

had thought of that, too,” said Mary; ^^but 
couldn’t we leave in my trunk the things that would 
be of use to her? I know that some of them might 
be a little better than she is accustomed to, but 
that wouldn’t hurt; and it wouldn’t take much to 
get ready what else she would need.” 

So Mary was permitted to carry out her new 
ideas and, in less than a week, she stood at the 
station and saw Flora and her trunk aboard the 
train, bound for a quiet place in the country, where 


152 


STORIES FOR THE TWILIGHT 


arrangements had been made for her few weeks’ 
stay. 

During her absence Mary called upon Mrs. Dane 
from time to time, always receiving the good news 
of the daughter’s improvement. And her own eyes 
seemed to grow brighter, and the color in her cheeks 
a little deeper, because of this and of the pleasure 
brought by an occasional letter from her sick friend. 

When the few weeks had passed and Flora was 
home again, Mary called to see her, and Mrs. Dane 
met her at the door with: ^Wou can’t think how 
much she has improved! The doctor says that she 
is sure to get well, now ! It never would have been, 
Mary, if it hadn’t been for you !” 

After having had a nice little talk with them, 
which it would be hard to tell who enjoyed most, 
Mary, promising to see them again, rose to go. 

When she had left the home it was with a thank- 
ful heart that Mrs. Dane, looking after her, said: 
^^God bless the girl! I’m sure she’ll never want 
any good thing in this world or in the next.” 

A few days later Mr. Nestor, having recently re- 
turned from an extensive business trip, questioned 


HEARTS MADE GLAD 


153 


his daughter with: my girl, what kind of a 

time have you had 

Mary knew what he meant and, looking up from 
her book, she told him how Flora had almost recov- 
ered, and how the doctor had said that she would 
soon be well again ; and, when she paused, he again 
asked: ^^And what kind of a time have you had?’’ 

The story was soon told, for already the answer 
was in Mary’s face, and it only needed the one word, 
which she said most emphatically, ^‘DeligJitfuir 



MAY 81 1912 










*4 




